UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


"  '  TAKE   CARE,   MOTHER  !  '    HE   SAID. 


Butbor's  Definitive  jEDItfon 


IN  WAR  TIME 


S.  WEIR   MITCHELL,  M.D. 

LL.D.    HARVARD    AND    EDINBURGH 


NEW  YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 
1905 


Copyright,  1884,  by 
S.  WEIR  MITCHELL,  M.  D. 

All  rights  reserved. 


PS 


IN  WAR  TIME. 


IN  the  latter  part  of  the  afternoon  of  a  summer 
day  in  the  year  1863,  a  little  crowd  gathered  near 
the  door  of  the  military  hospital  on  Filbert  Street, 
in  the  city  of  Philadelphia.  Like  the  rest  of  the 
vast  camps  of  the  sick,  which  added  in  those  days 
to  the  city  population  some  twenty-five  thousand 
of  the  maimed  and  ill,  this  one  has  been  lost,  in 
the  healing  changes  with  which  civilizing  progress, 
no  less  quickly  than  forgiving  nature,  is  apt  to 
cover  the  traces  of  war. 

The  incident  which  drew  to  the  hospital  gate  a 
small  crowd  was  common  in  those  days.  Ambu- 
lances were  bringing  to  its  portal  a  share  of  such 
wounded  men  as  were  fit  to  be  removed  to  a  dis- 
tance from  Gettysburg  and  distributed  among  the 
great  hospitals  of  the  North.  A  surgeon  in  green 
sash  and  undress  army  uniform  stood  bareheaded 
within  the  shade  of  the  doorway.  Beside  the  curb- 
stone, near  the  ambulances,  a  younger  man,  an  as- 
sistant surgeon,  directed  the  attendants,  as  they 
bore  the  wounded  into  the  building  on  stretchers 
between  double  lines  of  soldiers  of  the  invalid 


2  IN  WAR  TIME. 

corps,  who  at  that  time  did  guard  duty  in  our  hos- 
pitals. 

The  surgeon  at  the  doorway,  a  tall,  refined- 
looking  man,  so  erect  as  to  seem  a  little  stiff  in 
figure,  made  occasional  comments  in  a  quiet,  well- 
bred  voice,  rather  monotonously  free  from  the  de- 
cisive sharpness  which  habits  of  command  are  apt 
to  produce. 

"  Break  step,  my  men.  Break  step  —  you  shake 
the  stretcher!  Break  step  — make  more  room 
there,  sergeant.  Keep  back  the  crowd." 

Sometimes,  a  man  got  out  of  the  ambulance  with 
help,  and  limped  eagerly  into  the  open  doorway ; 
sometimes,  lost  to  all  around  him,  one  was  borne 
in  motionless;  sometimes,  it  was  a  face  to  which 
death  had  already  whispered,  "  Come."  In  the  lit- 
tle hall  the  bearers  paused,  while  a  young  surgeon 
asked  a  few  brief  questions,  after  which  the  sick 
man  was  given  his  iced  lemonade,  or  some  other 
refreshing  drink,  and  taken  away. 

Now  and  then  an  officer  was  carried  in.  This 
was  usually  some  desperately  wounded  man,  unable 
to  be  taken  to  his  home.  As  these  sufferers  passed 
the  surgeon  in  charge,  he  noted  the  scrap  of  uni- 
form, or  the  cap,  and  drawing  himself  up  saluted 
with  excessive  military  accuracy.  Were  the  man 
too  ill  or  too  careless  to  notice  this  courtesy,  a  faint 
lift  of  the  surgeon's  brow,  some  slight  treachery  of 
the  features,  showed  that  he,  at  least,  felt  that 
nothing  less  than  paralysis  would  have  prevented 
him  from  returning  the  military  salutation. 


72V  WAR  TIME.  3 

Meanwhile,  about  two  squares  away,  as  Philadel- 
phians  say,  a  man  and  woman  were  walking  some- 
what rapidly  toward  the  hospital.  The  man  was 
what  is  known  in  the  army  as  a  "  contract-assistant 
surgeon,"  that  is,  a  physician  taken  from  civil  life 
and  paid  at  a  certain  rate  per  month  to  do  the  duty 
of  a  military  surgeon.  In  some  cases  these  gentle- 
men lived  in  the  hospitals,  and  were  of  course  ex- 
pected to  wear  uniform,  and  to  submit  to  all  the 
usual  rules  of  military  life.  Others  merely  at- 
tended at  set  hours,  and  included  not  only  certain 
of  the  most  able  men  in  the  profession  of  medicine, 
but  also  a  great  number  of  the  more  or  less  compe- 
tent, glad  enough  of  the  eighty  dollars  a  month 
which  they  received.  Among  these  latter  were 
many  of  those  hapless  persons  who  drift  through 
life,  and  seize,  as  they  are  carried  along,  such  mor- 
sels of  good  luck  as  the  great  tides  of  fortune  float 
within  reach  of  their  feeble  tentacula.  This  con- 
tract surgeon  was  a  man  of  full  middle  height.  He 
stooped  slightly,  but  the  habit  became  oddly  notice- 
able owing  to  his  uniform,  on  which  the  surgeon  in 
charge  insisted  during  the  time  of  the  hospital  visit. 
He  wore  a  military  cap,  under  which  his  hair 
curled  softly.  His  features  were  distinct  but  deli- 
cate, and  the  upper  lip,  which  was  short,  retreated 
a  little,  a  peculiarity  apt  to  give  to  the  countenance 
a  certain  purity  of  expression.  His  face  was  clean 
shaved,  but  he  had  better  have  worn  a  mustache, 
since  the  mouth  was  too  regular  for  manly  beauty. 
As  he  went  by,  two  sun-browned  young  fellows  in 


4  IN  WAR  TIME. 

uniform,  and  wearing  their  corps  marks,  turned 
and  glanced  at  him.  One  of  them  said,  "  What 
an  interesting  face !  "  The  other  returned,  smiling, 
"But  what  a  careless  figure !  and  a  soldier  with  a 
sun  umbrella  is  rather  droll."  In  fact,  there  was 
a  certain  look  of  indifference  to  appearances  about 
the  man's  whole  aspect,  and  the  umbrella  which 
had  excited  remark  was  carried  at  a  lazy  slope  over 
the  shoulder.  Evidently,  he  felt  very  keenly  the 
damp,  oppressive  heat  of  the  July  day  ;  but  while 
this  was  seen  in  the  indolent  slowness  of  his  walk, 
his  face  showed  plainly  that  the  mind  was  more 
alive  than  the  body.  As  they  crossed  the  small 
park  then  known  as  Penn  Square,  he  paused  to 
pick  up  a  flower,  counted  its  stamina,  and  stowed 
it  away  in  the  lining  of  his  cap.  An  insect  on  his 
sister's  sleeve  drew  his  attention.  The  trees,  the 
passers-by,  a  monkey  and  a  hand-organ  at  a  street 
corner,  all  seemed  to  get  in  turn  a  share  of  alert, 
attentive  regard. 

The  woman  beside  him  was  a  strange  contrast. 
Unmindful  of  anything  about  her,  she  walked  on 
steadily  with  a  firm,  elastic  step,  and  a  face  which, 
however  pleasing,  —  and  it  was  distinctly  that,  — 
was  not  remarkable  for  decided  expression.  "What- 
ever might  have  been  her  fortunes,  time  as  yet  had 
failed  to  leave  upon  her  face  any  strong  lines  of 
characterization.  Absolute  health  offers  a  certain 
resistance  to  these  grim  chiselings  of  face  ;  and  in 
this  woman  ruddy  cheeks,  clear  eyes,  and  round 
facial  lines  above  a  plump  but  well-built  and  com 


IN  WAR   TIME.  5 

pact  frame  told  of  a  rarely  wholesome  life.  She 
was  dressed  in  gray  linen,  fitting  her  well,  but 
without  cuffs,  collar,  or  ribbon ;  and  although  the 
neatness  of  her  guise  showed  that  it  must  have  ex- 
acted some  care,  it  was  absolutely  devoid  of  orna- 
ment. In  her  hand  she  carried  a  rather  heavy  bas- 
ket, which  now  and  then  she  shifted  from  one  side 
to  the  other,  for  relief. 

Presently  they  turned  into  Filbert  Street  from 
Broad  Street. 

"  Do  look,  Ann  !  "  said  Dr.  Wendell  to  his  sis- 
ter. "  I  never  pass  this  paper  mulberry-tree  with- 
out a  sense  of  disgust.  There  is  a  reptilian  vile- 
ness  of  texture  and  color  about  the  trunk ;  and 
don't  you  remember  how,  when  we  were  children, 
we  used  to  try  to  find  two  leaves  alike  ?  Don't 
you  think,  Ann,  there  is  something  exasperating 
about  that  ?  I  was  trying  to  think  why  it  annoyed 
me  now.  It  is  such  a  contradiction  to  the  ten- 
dency of  nature  toward  monotonous  repetition." 

"  You  had  best  be  trying  to  hurry  up  a  little," 
returned  Miss  Wendell. 

"  Do  give  me  that  basket,  dear,"  said  her  com- 
panion, pausing ;  "  it  is  much  too  heavy  for  you. 
I  should  have  carried  it  myself." 

"  It  is  not  heavy,"  she  said,  smiling,  "  and  I  am 
very  well  used  to  it.  But  I  do  think,  brother  Ezra, 
we  must  hurry.  Why  cannot  you  hurry!  You 
are  half  an  hour  late  now,  and  do  look  at  your 
vest!  It  is  buttoned  all  crooked,  and —  Why, 
there  is  quite  a  crowd  at  the  hospital  door !  Oh, 


6  IN  WAR  TIME. 

why  were  you  so  late !  and  they  do  fuss  so  when 
you  are  late." 

"I  see,  I  see,"  he  said.  "What  can  it  be?  I 
wish  it  was  n't  so  hot.  Do  hurry,  Ann !  " 

The  woman  smiled  faintly.  "Yes,  it  is  warm. 
Here,  take  this  basket.  I  am  tired  out."  Upon 
which,  somewhat  reluctantly  lowering  his  umbrella, 
he  took  the  basket,  and  quickened  his  pace.  A 
large  man,  solidly  built,  drove  by  in  a  victoria, 
with  servants  on  the  box,  himself  in  cool  white. 
Dr.  Wendell  glanced  at  him  as  he  passed,  and 
thought,  "  That  looks  like  the  incarnation  of  suc- 
cess !  "  and  wondered  vaguely  what  lucky  fates  had 
been  that  man's  easy  ladders.  Very  successful  men 
and  people  who  have  had  many  defeats  both  get  to 
be  superstitious  believers  in  blind  fortune,  while  a 
certain  amount  of  misfortune  destroys  in  some  all 
the  germs  of  success.  For  others,  a  failure  is  like 
a  blow.  It  may  stagger,  but  it  excites  to  forceful 
action. 

"  Come !  "  said  his  sister,  looking  as  worried  and 
flushed  as  if  she,  and  not  he,  had  been  to  blame ; 
and  in  a  minute  or  two  they  were  entering  the  hos- 
pital. 

"  Good-evening,  Miss  Wendell,"  said  the  sur- 
geon ;  "  excuse  me  —  don't  stand  in  the  way.  A 
moment,  Dr.  Wendell,  —  a  moment,"  he  added, 
saluting  him  ;  and  glancing,  with  a  gentleman's  in- 
stinct, after  Miss  Wendell,  to  be  sure  she  was  out 
of  hearing.  Then  turning,  he  said  to  his  subordi- 
nate, "You  are  a  full  half  hour  late;  in  fact," 


IN   WAR  TIME.  7 

taking  out  his  watch,  "  the  clock  misled  me,  —  you 
are  thirty-nine  minutes  late.  Sergeant,  don't  let 
me  see  that  clock  wrong  again.  It  should  be  set 
every  morning." 

Wendell  flushed.  Like  most  men  who  think 
over-well  of  themselves,  he  was  sensitive  to  all  re- 
proof, and  the  training  of  civil  life,  while  it  had 
made  more  or  less  of  hardship  easy  to  bear,  had 
unfitted  him  for  the  precision  which  that  army  sur- 
geon exacted  alike  from  his  juniors  and  his  clocks. 

"  I  was  somewhat  delayed,"  said  Wendell. 

"  Ah  ?  No  matter  about  excuses.  You,  we  all 
xof  us,  are  portions  of  a  machine.  I  never  excuse 
myself  to  myself,  or  to  others.  Yes  —  yes  —  I 
know  "  —  as  Wendell  began  again  to  explain.  At 
this  moment  the  soldiers  set  down  at  his  feet  a 
stretcher  just  removed  from  an  ambulance,  while 
another  set  of  bearers  took  their  places. 

The  surgeon  saluted  the  new-comer  on  his  little 

palliasse,  noting  that  around  him  lay  a  faded  coat 

of  Confederate  gray,  with  a  captain's  stripes  on  the 

i/  shoulders.     The  wounded  man  returned  the  salute 

with  his  left  arm. 

"You  were  hurt  at  Gettysburg?"  said  the  sur- 
geon. 

"Yes,  sir.  On  Cemetery  Hill;  and  a  damned 
hard  fight,  too !  We  were  most  all  left  there.  I 
shall  never  see  a  better  fight  if  I  go  to  heaven  1 " 

The  attendants  laughed,  but  the  surgeon's  face 
.  rested  unmoved. 

"  I  hope  you  will  soon  be  welL"     Then  he  added 


8  IN  WAR  TIME. 

kindly,  "  Dr.  Wendell,  see  that  this  gentleman  is 
put  in  Ward  Two,  near  a  window,  and  give  him 
some  milk  punch  at  once ;  he  looks  pale.  No 
lemonade ;  milk  punch.  Come  now,  my  men ; 
move  along !  Who  next  ?  Ah,  Major  Morton,  I 
have  been  expecting  you ! "  and  he  bent  to  shake 
hands  warmly  with  a  sallow  man  who  filled  the 
next  stretcher.  "  I  am  sorry  and  glad  to  see  you 
here.  I  got  your  dispatch  early  to-day.  Gettys- 
burg, too,  I  suppose  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  Cemetery  Hill.  I  wonder  the  old  Fifth 
has  any  one  alive  !  " 

"  Well,  well,"  replied  the  surgeon,  "  we  shall 
give  you  a  health  brevet  soon.  Bed  Number  Five, 
next  to  the  last  man.  Take  good  care  of  Major 
Morton,  Dr.  Wendell.  He  is  an  old  friend  of 
mine.  There,  easy,  my  men !  I  will  presently  see 
to  you  myself,  Morton." 

And  so  the  long  list  of  sick  and  hurt  were  car- 
ried in,  one  by  one,  a  small  share  of  the  awful  har- 
vest of  Gettysburg,  until,  as  night  fell,  the  surgeon 
turned  and  entered  the  hospital,  the  sentinel  re- 
sumed his  place  at  the  open  door,  and  the  crowd  of 
curious  scattered  and  passed  away. 

Meanwhile,  Dr.  Wendell  went  moodily  up-stairs 
to  the  vast  ward  which  occupied  all  the  second 
floor  of  the  old  brick  armory.  He  was  one  of  those 
unhappy  people  who  are  made  sore  for  days  by 
petty  annoyances ;  nor  did  the  possession  of  consid. 
erable  intelligence  and  much  imagination  help  him. 
In  fact,  these  qualities  served  only,  as  is  usual  in 


IN  WAR  TIME.  9 

such  natures,  to  afford  him  a  more  ample  fund  of 
self -torment.  In  measuring  himself  with  others, 
he  saw  that  in  acquisitions  and  mind  he  was  their 
superior,  and  he  was  constantly  puzzled  to  know 
why  he  failed  where  they  succeeded. 

The  vast  hall  which  he  entered  was  filled  with 
long  rows  of  iron  bedsteads,  each  with  its  little 
label  for  the  owner's  name,  rank,  disease,  and  treat- 
ment suspended  from  the  iron  cross-bar  above  the 
head  of  the  sufferer.  Beside  each  bed  stood  a 
small  wooden  table,  with  one  or  two  bottles  and 
perhaps  a  book  or  two  upon  it.  The  walls  were 
whitewashed,  the  floor  was  scrupulously  clean,  and 
an  air  of  extreme  and  even  accurate  neatness  per- 
vaded the  place.  Except  for  the  step  of  a  nurse, 
or  occasional  words  between  patients  near  to  one 
another,  or  the  flutter  of  the  fans  which  some  of 
them  were  using  to  cool  themselves  in  the  excessive 
heat,  there  was  but  little  noise. 

Dr.  Wendell  followed  the  litters  and  saw  the 
two  officers,  gray  coat  and  blue  coat,  placed  com- 
fortably in  adjoining  beds. 

"  Are  you  all  right  ?  "  said  Wendell  to  the  Con- 
federate. 

"  Oh,  yes,  doctor  !  I  've  had  too  hard  a  time  to 
growl.  This  is  like  heaven ;  it 's  immensely  like 
heaven ! " 

Miss  WendeU  had  foUowed  them,  after  distrib- 
uting here  and  there  some  of  the  contents  of  her 
basket. 

"  Stop,"  she  said  to  her  brother  ;  "  let  them  lift 


10  IN  WAR  TIME. 

him.  There,"  she  added  with  a  satisfied  air,  as 
she  shook  up  and  replaced  the  pillow,  —  "  there, 
that  is  better !  Here  are  two  or  three  ripe  peaches. 
You  said  it  was  like  heaven.  Don't  you  think 
all  pleasant  things  ought  to  make  us  think  of 
heaven?" 

"  Oh,  by  George,"  he  replied  ;  "  my  dear  lady, 
did  you  ever  have  a  bullet  in  your  shoulder?  I 
can't  think,  for  torment.  I  can  only  feel." 

"  That  may  have  its  use,  too,"  said  she,  simply. 
"  I  have  been  told  that  pain  is  a  great  preacher." 

The  patient  smiled  grimly.  "  He  gets  a  fel- 
low's attention,  any  way,  if  that  's  good  preach- 
ing!" 

"  Ann,  Ann  !  "  exclaimed  her  brother.  "  Don't 
talk  to  him.  Don't  talk,  especially  any  —  I  mean, 
he  is  too  tired." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  hurt  him,  brother,"  she  re- 
turned, in  a  quiet  aside.  "  But  there  are  errands 
which  may  not  be  delayed  to  wait  for  our  times  of 
ease." 

"  Oh,  it  is  no  matter,  doctor,"  said  the  officer, 
smiling,  as  he  half  heard  Dr.  Wendell's  comment. 
"  I  like  it.  Don't  say  a  word.  It  would  be  a 
pleasure  even  to  be  scolded  by  a  woman.  It  is  all 
right,  I  know  !  Thank  you,  miss.  A  little  water, 
please."  And  then  the  doctor  and  his  sister  turned 
to  the  other  bed. 

"  Major  Morton,  I  believe  ?  "  said  the  doctor. 

"Yes,  John  Morton,  Fifth  Pennsylvania  Re- 
serves. Confound  the  bed,  doctor,  how  hard  it  is  I 


IN  WAR  TIME.  11 

Are  all  your  beds  like  this  ?  It 's  all  over  hum- 
mocks, like  a  damson  pie !  " 

The  doctor  felt  that  somehow  he  was  accused. 

"  I  never  noticed  it,"  said  Wendell.  "  The  beds 
are  not  complained  of." 

"  But  I  complain,  of  it.  However,  I  shall  get 
used  to  it,  I  suppose.  There  must  be  at  least  six 
feathers  in  the  pillow !  " 

"  It  is  n't  feather.  It  is  hair,"  remarked  Miss 
Wendell.  "  That 's  much  cooler,  you  know." 

"  Cooler !  "  replied  the  major.  "  It 's  red  hot. 
Everything  is  red  hot !  But  I  suppose  it  is  myself. 
Confound  the  flies !  I  wonder  what  the  deuce 
they  're  for !  Could  n't  I  have  a  net  ?  " 

"  Flies  ?  "  reflected  Miss  WendeU.  «  They  must 
be  right  —  but — but  they  are  dirty !  "  She  wisely, 
however,  kept  silence  as  to  the  place  and  function 
of  flies  in  nature.  "  I  will  ask  for  a  net,"  she  said. 

"  Oh,  yes,  do,"  he  returned ;  "  that 's  a  good 
woman." 

"I  am  not  a  good  woman,"  exclaimed  Miss 
WendeU,  "but  I  will  ask  about  the  net." 

"  Oh,  but  you  will  be,  if  you  get  me  a  net,"  con- 
tinued the  patient.  "  And  ask,  too,  please,  about 
my  wife.  She  was  to  be  in  the  city  to-day." 

He  spoke  like  one  used  to  command,  and  as  if 
his  discomforts  were  to  receive  instant  attention. 
In  the  field  no  man  was  easier  pleased,  or  less  ex- 
acting about  the  small  comforts  of  camp,  but  the 
return  to  a  city  seemed  to  let  loose  all  the  habitual 
demands  of  a  life  of  ease. 


12  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Dr.  Wendell  promised  to  see  about  the  lady. 

Mrs.  Morton  was  to  come  from  Saratoga,  and 
why  could  not  Dr.  Lagrange  see  him  at  once? 
Every  one  kept  him  waiting,  and  he  supposed  Mrs. 
Morton  would  keep  him  waiting,  like  every  one 
else. 

At  length  Miss  Wendell  said,  "  My  brother  has 
his  duties  here,  sir.  I  think  I  can  go  and  see  about 
it.  You  must  needs  feel  troubled  concerning  your 
wife.  As  you  look  for  her  to-day,  I  might  meet 
her  at  the  depot,  because,  if,  as  you  have  said,  she 
does  not  know  to  what  hospital  you  have  been 
taken,  she  will  be  in  great  distress, — great  dis- 
tress, I  should  think." 

"Yes,  great  distress,"  repeated  Major  Morton, 
with  an  odd  gleam  of  amusement  on  his  brown 
face.  "  But  how  will  you  know  her  ?  Stop !  Yes 
—  she  telegraphed  me  she  would  come  by  an  after- 
noon train  to-morrow,  and  I  am  a  day  too  soon,  you 
see." 

"  There  are  only  three  trains,"  said  Miss  Wen- 
dell, looking  at  the  time-table  in  an  evening  paper, 
which  an  orderly  had  been  sent  to  find.  "  I  can 
go  to  them  all,  if  you  wish.  I  do  not  mind  taking 
trouble  for  our  wounded  soldiers.  It  is  God's  cause, 
sir.  Don't  let  it  worry  you." 

Morton's  mustache  twitched  with  the  partly  con- 
trolled merriment  of  the  hidden  lips  beneath  it. 
There  was,  for  his  nature,  some  difficulty  in  seeing 
relations  between  a  large  belief  and  small  duties. 
There  was  the  Creator,  of  whom  he  thought  with 


IN   WAR   TIME.  13 

vagueness,  and  who  certainly  had  correct  relations 
to  Christ  Church ;  but  what  had  he  to  do  with  a 
woman  going  to  look  for  another  woman  at  a  depot  ? 

"  You  might  tell  my  sister,  major,  what  Mrs. 
Morton  is  like,"  suggested  Dr.  Wendell. 

"  Like  ?  "  returned  Morton,  rather  wearily,  and 
then  again  feebly  amused  at  the  idea  of  describing 
his  wife.  "  Like,  like  ?  By  George,  that 's  a  droll 
idea!". 

Most  of  us,  in  fact,  would  have  a  little  trouble 
in  accurately  delineating  for  a  stranger  the  people 
familiar  to  us,  and  would,  if  abruptly  required  to 
do  so,  be  apt  to  hesitate,  or,  like  the  major,  to  halt 
altogether. 

"  Like  ?  "  he  again  said.  "  God  bless  me  I  why, 
I  could  n't  describe  myself !  " 

"But  her  gown?"  said  Miss  Wendell,  with  in- 
genuity, and  remembering,  with  a  sense  of  approval 
of  her  own  cleverness,  that  she  herself,  having  but 
two  gowns,  might  through  them,  at  least,  be  iden- 
tified. 

Major  Morton  laughed.  "  Gown  ?  She  may 
have  had  twenty  gowns  since  I  saw  her.  It  is 
quite  eighteen  months.  You  might  look  for  a  tall 
woman,  rather  simply  dressed,  —  handsome  woman, 
I  may  say.  Small  boy  with  her,  a  maid,  and  no 
end  of  bundles,  bags,  rugs,  —  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
You  must  know." 

Miss  Wendell  was  not  very  clear  in  her  own  mind 
that  she  did  know,  but,  seeing  that  the  wounded 
man  was  tired,  accepted  his  description  as  suffi- 


14  IN  WAR  TIME. 

cient,  and  said  cheerfully,  "  No  doubt  I  shall  find 
her.  Good-night." 

"  Beg  pardon,  doctor,  but  I  did  n't  quite  catch 
your  name,"  said  the  patient. 

"My  name  is  Wendell,  —  Dr.  Wendell,"  re- 
turned the  doctor. 

"  Thanks ;  and  one  thing  more,  doctor :  send  me 
some  opium,  and  soon,  too.  I  am  suffering  like 
the  devil!" 

"  How  little  he  knows !  "  thought  Miss  Wendell, 
with  a  grave  look  and  an  inward  and  satisfactory 
consciousness  that  her  beliefs  enabled  her  at  least 
to  entertain  a  higher  and  more  just  appreciation  in 
regard  to  the  improbable  statement  he  had  made. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  We  '11  see  about 
it."  He  had  a  feeling,  not  quite  uncommon  in  his 
profession,  that  such  suggestions  in  regard  to  treat- 
ment were  in  a  measure  attacks  on  his  own  prerog- 
ative of  superior  intelligence.  "  We  shall  see,"  he 
said,  "  when  we  make  the  evening  round." 

"  Confound  the  fellow,  and  his  evening  round ! " 
growled  the  major  under  his  mustache.  "I  wish 
he  had  my  leg,  or  I  had  him  in  my  regiment." 

But  happy  in  the  assertion  of  his  professional 
position,  Dr.  Wendell  had  rejoined  his  sister,  the 
more  content  because  he  felt  that  she  had  relieved 
him  of  the  trouble  of  finding  the  wife  of  the  officer. 
Like  many  people  who,  intellectually,  are  active 
enough,  he  disliked  physical  exertion.  At  times, 
indeed,  he  mildly  reproached  himself  for  the  many 
burdens  he  allowed  his  sister  to  carry,  and  yet 


IN   WAR   TIME.  15 

failed  to  see  how  largely  she  was  the  power  which 
supplemented  his  own  nature  by  urging  him  along 
with  an  energy  which  often  enough  distressed  him, 
and  as  often  hurt  his  self-esteem.  There  are  in 
life  many  of  these  partnerships:  a  husband  with 
intellect  enough,  owing  the  driving  power  to  a 
wife's  sense  of  duty,  or  to  her  social  ambitions ;  a 
brother  with  character,  using,  half-unconsciously, 
the  generous  values  of  a  sister's  more  critical  intel- 
ligence. When  one  of  the  partners  in  these  con- 
cerns dies,  the  world  says,  "Oh,  yes,  he  is  quite 
used  up  by  this  death.  Now  he  has  lost  all  his 
activity.  Poor  fellow,  he  must  have  felt  it  very 
deeply." 


n 

MOODS  are  the  climates  of  the  mind.  They  warm 
or  chill  resolves,  and  are  in  turn  our  flatterers  or 
our  cynical  satirists.  With  some  people,  their 
moods  are  fatal  gifts  of  the  east  or  the  west  wind ; 
while  with  others,  especially  with  certain  women, 
and  with  men  who  have  feminine  temperaments, 
they  come  at  the  call  of  a  resurgent  memory,  of  a 
word  that  wounds,  of  a  smile  at  meeting,  or  at 
times  from  causes  so  trivial  that  while  we  acknowl- 
edge their  force  we  seek  in  vain  for  the  reasons  of 
their  domination.  With  Wendell,  the  moods  to 
which  he  was  subject  made  a  good  deal  of  the  sun 
and  shade  of  life.  He  was  without  much  steady 
capacity  for  resistance,  and  yielded  with  a  not  in- 
curious attention  to  his  humors,  —  being  either 
too  weak  or  too  indifferent  to  battle  with  their  in- 
fluence, and  in  fact  having,  like  many  persons  of 
intelligence,  without  vigor  of  character,  a  pleasure 
in  the  belief  that  he  possessed  in  a  high  degree  in- 
dividualities, even  in  the  way  of  what  he  knew  to 
be  morbid. 

One  of  these  overshadowing  periods  of  depres- 
sion was  brought  on  by  his  sister's  mild  remon- 
strance concerning  his  want  of  punctuality,  and  by 
the  reproof  of  his  superior,  Dr.  Lagrange,  or,  as  he 


IN  WAR  TIME.  17 

much  preferred  to  be  addressed,  Major  Lagrange, 
such  being  his  titular  rank  on  the  army  register. 

Miss  Wendell  had  gone  home  first,  and  Wendell 
was  about  to  follow  her,  when  he  was  recalled  by 
an  orderly,  who  ran  after  him  to  tell  him  of  the 
sudden  death  of  one  of  his  patients.  Death  was  an 
incident  of  hospital  life  too  common  to  excite  men, 
in  those  days  of  slaughter ;  but  it  so  chanced  that, 
as  regards  this  death,  Wendell  experienced  a  cer- 
•/  tain  amount  of  discomfort.  A  young  officer  had 
died  abruptly,  from  sudden  exertion,  and  Wendell 
felt  vaguely  that  his  own  mood  had  prevented  him 
from  giving  the  young  man  such  efficient  advice  as 
might  have  made  him  more  careful.  The  thought 
was  not  altogether  agreeable. 

"  I  ought  never  to  have  been  a  doctor,"  groaned 
Wendell  to  himself.  "  Everything  is  against  me." 
Then,  seeing  no  criticism  in  the  faces  of  the  nurses, 
he  gave  the  usual  orders  in  case  of  a  death,  and, 
with  a  last  glance  at  the  moveless  features  and  open 
eyes  of  the  dead,  left  the  ward. 

There  is  probably  no  physician  who  cannot  recall 
some  moment  in  his  life  when  he  looked  with  doubt 
and  trouble  of  mind  on  the  face  of  death;  but  for 
the  most  part  his  is  a  profession  carried  on  with 
uprightness  of  purpose  and  habitual  watchfulness, 
so  that  it  is  but  very  rarely  that  its  practitioners 
have  as  just  reason  for  self-reproach  as  Wendell 
had. 

Very  ill  at  ease  with  himself,  he  walked  toward 
the  station,  where,  having  missed  his  train,  he  had 


18  IN  WAR  TIME. 

to  wait  for  half  an  hour.  Sitting  here  alone,  he 
soon  reasoned  himself  into  his  usual  state  of  self- 
satisfied  calm.  It  was  after  all  a  piece  of  bad  for- 
tune, and  attended  with  no  consequences  to  him- 
self ;  one  of  many  deaths,  the  every-day  incidents 
of  a  raging  war  and  of  hospital  life.  Very  likely 
it  would  have  happened  soon  or  late,  let  him  have 
done  as  he  might.  A  less  imaginative  man  would 
have  suffered  less;  a  man  with  more  conscience 
would  have  suffered  longer,  and  been  the  better 
for  it. 

At  the  station  in  Germantown  he  lit  his  pipe, 
and,  soothed  by  its  quieting  influence,  walked  home- 
ward to  his  house  on  Main  Street. 

He  was  rapidly  coming  to  a  state  of  easier  mind, 
under  the  effect  of  the  meerschaum's  subtle  influ- 
ence upon  certain  groups  of  ganglionic  nerve  cells 
deep  in  his  cerebrum,  when,  stumbling  on  the  not 
very  perfect  pavements  of  the  suburban  village,  he 
dropped  his  pipe,  and  had  a  shock  of  sudden  misery 
as  he  saw  it  by  the  moonlight  in  fragments ;  a  shock 
which,  as  he  reflected  with  amazement  a  moment 
later,  seemed  to  him  —  nay,  which  was  —  quite  as 
great  as  that  caused  by  the  death  of  his  patient,  an 
hour  before ! 

He  stood  a  moment,  overcome  with  the  calamity, 
and  then  walked  on  slowly,  with  an  abrupt  sense  of 
disturbing  horror  at  the  feeling  that  the  pipe's  ma- 
terial wholeness  was  to  him,  for  a  moment,  as  im- 
portant as  the  young  officer's  life.  The  people  who 
live  in  a  harem  of  sentiments  are  very  apt  to  lose 


IN  WAR  TIME.  19 

the  wholesome  sense  of  relation  in  life,  so  that  in 
their  egotism  small  things  become  large,  and  as 
often  large  things  small.  They  are  apt,  as  Wendell 
was,  to  call  to  their  aid  and  comfort  whatever 
power  of  casuistry  they  possess  to  support  their 
feelings,  and  thus  by  degrees  habitually  weaken 
their  sense  of  moral  perspective. 

It  may  seem  a  slight  thing  to  dwell  upon,  but  for 
self-indulgent  persons  there  is  nothing  valueless  in 
their  personal  belongings,  and  the  train  of  reflec- 
tion brought  by  this  little  accident  was  altogether 
characteristic.  Thrown  back  by  this  trifle  into  his 
mood  of  gloom,  he  reached  his  own  house,  and  saw 
through  the  open  windows  his  sister's  quiet  face 
bent  over  her  sewing-machine,  which  was  humming 
busily. 

About  two  years  before  this  date,  Wendell  and 
his  sister  had  left  the  little  village  on  Cape  Cod  to 
try  their  fortunes  elsewhere.  These  two  were  the 
last  descendants  of  a  long  line  of  severely  religious 
divines,  who  had  lived  and  preached  at  divers 
places  on  the  Cape.  But  at  last  one  of  them  — 
Wendell's  father —  became  the  teacher  of  a  normal 
school,  and  died  in  late  middle  life,  leaving  a  few 
thousand  dollars  to  represent  the  commercial  talent 
of  some  generations  of  Yankees  whose  acuteness 
had  been  directed  chiefly  into  the  thorny  tracks  of 
biblical  exegesis.  His  son,  a  shy,  intellectual  lad, 
had  shown  promise  at  school,  and  only  when  came 
the  practical  work  of  life  exhibited  those  defects  of 
character  whicl:  had  been  of  little  moment  so  long 


20  IN  WAR  TIME. 

as  a  good  memory  and  mental  activity  were  the  sole 
requisites.  Persistent  energy,  sufficing  to  give  the 
daily  supply  of  power  needful  for  both  the  physical 
and  mental  claims  of  any  exacting  profession,  were 
lacking.  In  a  career  at  school  or  college  it  is  pos- 
sible to  "  catch  up,"  but  in  the  school  of  life  there 
are  no  examinations  at  set  intervals,  and  success 
is  usually  made  up  of  the  sum  of  happy  uses  of 
multiplied  fractional  opportunities.  His  first  fail- 

^  ure  was  as  a  teacher,  one  of  the  most  self-deny- 
ing of  avocations.  Then  he  studied  medicine,  and 
was  so  carried  away  by  the  intellectual  enthusiasm 
it  aroused  iu  him  that  could  he  have  retired  into 
some  quiet  college  nook,  as  a  student  of  physiology 
or  pathology,  he  would  probably  have  attained  a 
certain  amount  of  reputation,  because  in  such  a 
career  irregular  activity  is  less  injurious.  Want  of 
means,  however,  or  want  of  will  to  endure  for  a 
while  some  necessary  privations,  inclined  him  to 
accept  the  every-day  life  and  trials  of  a  practicing 
physician  in  the  town  where  he  was  born.  The 
experiment  failed.  There  was  some  want  in  the 
young  man  which  interfered  with  success  at  home, 
so  that  the  outbreak  of  the  war  found  him  ready, 
as  were  many  of  his  class,  to  welcome  the  chances 
of  active  service  as  a  doctor  in  the  field.  A  rough 
campaign  in  West  Virginia  resulted  very  soon  in 

.•  his  suddenly  quitting  the  army,  and  finding  his  way 
to  Philadelphia,  where  his  sister  joined  him.  She 
readily  accepted  his  excuse  of  ill  health  as  a  reason 
for  his  leaving  the  service,  and  they  finally  decided 


IN   WAR  TIME.  21 

to  try  their  luck  anew  in  the  Quaker  town.  Miss 
Wendell  brought  with  her  the  few  thousand  dollars 
which  represented  her  father's  life-long  savings. 
Yielding  to  her  better  judgment,  the  doctor  found 
a  home  in  Germantown,  within  a  few  miles  of  Phil- 
adelphia, as  being  cheaper  than  the  city,  and  in  the 
little,  long-drawn  out  town  which  Pastorius  founded 
they  settled  themselves,  with  the  conviction  on 
Ann's  part  that  now,  at  last,  her  brother's  talents 
would  find  a  fitting  sphere,  and  the  appreciation 
which  ignorant  prejudice  had  denied  him  elsewhere. 
What  more  the  severe,  simple,  energetic  woman  of 
limited  mind  thought  of  her  brother,  we  may  leave 
this,  their  life-tale,  to  tell. 

The  house  they  rented  for  but  a  moderate  sum 
was  a  rather  large  two-story  building  of  rough  gray 
micaceous  stone,  with  a  front  lit  by  four  windows. 
Over  the  door  projected  an  old-fashioned  pent- 
house, and  before  it  was  what  is  known  in  Pennsyl- 
vania as  a  stoop ;  that  is,  a  large,  flat  stone  step, 
with  a  bench  on  either  side.  Across  the  front  of 
the  house  an  ivy  had  year  by  year  spread  its  leaves, 
until  it  hung  in  masses  from  the  eaves,  and  mingled 
on  the  hipped  roof  with  the  Virginia  creeper  and 
the  trumpet  vine,  which  grew  in  the  garden  on  one 
side  of  the  house,  and,  climbing  to  the  gable,  mot- 
tled in  October  the  darker  green  with  crimson 
patches.  Behind  the  house  a  half  acre  of  garden 
was  gay  with  tiger  lilies,  sunflowers,  and  holly- 
hocks, with  a  bit  of  pasture  farther  back,  for  use,  if 
needed. 


22  IN  WAR  TIME. 

The  house  had  been,  in  the  past,  the  dwelling  of 
a  doctor,  who  had  long  ceased  to  practice,  and  to  it 
the  sister  and  brother  had  brought  the  old  furni- 
ture from  a  home  on  Cape  Cod,  in  which  some  gen- 
erations of  Puritan  divines  had  lived,  and  in  which 
they  had  concocted  numberless  sermons  of  incon- 
ceivable length.  Notwithstanding  his  sister's  eco- 
nomic warnings,  the  doctor  had  added  from  time  to 
time,  as  his  admirable  taste  directed,  many  books, 
a  few  engravings,  and  such  other  small  ornaments 
as  his  intense  love  of  color  suggested. 

As  he  now  entered  the  sitting-room,  the  general 
look  of  the  place  gave  him,  despite  his  mood,  a 
sense  of  tranquil  pleasure.  The  high-backed,  claw- 
toed  chairs,  the  tall,  mahogany  clock,  with  its  cock 
on  top,  seeming  to  welcome  him  with  the  same 
quiet  face  which  had  watched  him  from  childhood, 
were  pleasant  to  the  troubled  man ;  and  the  fire- 
place tiles,  and  the  red  curtains,  and  the  bits  of 
Delft  ware  on  the  mantel  were  all  so  agreeable  to 
his  sense  of  beauty  in  form  and  color  that  he  threw 
himself  into  a  chair  with  some  feeling  of  comfort. 
His  sister  left  her  work,  and,  crossing  the  room, 
kissed  him.  Evidently  he  was  her  chief  venture 
in  life  !  From  long  habit  of  dependent  growth  the 
root  fibres  of  his  being  were  clasped  about  her,  as 
a  tree  holds  fast  for  life  and  support  to  some  iso- 
lated rock,  and  neither  he  nor  she  was  any  more 
conscious  than  the  tree  or  rock  of  the  economic 
value  which  he  took  out  of  their  relation.  On  his 
part,  it  was  a  profound  attachment,  —  merely  an 


IN  WAR  TIME.  23 

attachment ;  on  hers  a  pure  and  simple,  venerative 
love.  Women  expect  much  from  an  idol  and  get 
little,  but  believe  they  get  everything  ;  and  now  and 
then,  even  as  to  the  best  a  woman  can  set  up,  she 
has  cankering  doubts. 

"Brother,"  said  Miss  Wendell,  cheerfully,  "I 
was  thinking,  before  you  came  in,  how  thankful  we 
should  be  for  all  our  life,  just  now.  You  are  get- 
ting some  practice,"  —  then  observing  his  face, 
"  not  all  you  will  have,  you  know,  but  enough,  with 
the  hospital,  to  let  us  live,  oh,  so  pleasantly !  " 
Patting  his  cheek  tenderly,  she  added,  "  And  best 
of  all  for  me,  I  feel  that  you  are  not  worried,  that 
you  are  having  a  chance,  at  last." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  answered,  "  I  know,  I  know  I  I 
only  hope  it  will  continue." 

"  Why  should  it  not  ?  By  the  time  you  cease  to 
to  be  an  assistant  surgeon  —  I  mean,  when  this 
horrible  war  is  over  —  you  will  have  a  good  hold, 
on  practice,  and  you  will  only  have  to  love  your 
,  books  and  microscope  and  botany  a  little  less,  and 
study  human  beings  more." 

"  I  hardly  know  if  they  are  worth  the  studying ! 
But  never  mind  me.  I  am  cross  to-night." 

"  Oh,  no,  that  you  are  not.  I  won't  have  you  say 
that!  You  are  tired,  I  dare  say,  and  troubled 
about  all  those  poor  fellows  in  the  hospital." 

Wendell  moved  uneasily.  She  was  sitting  on 
the  arm  of  his  chair,  and  running  her  hand  caress- 
ingly through  his  hair,  which  was  brown,  and 
broke  into  a  wave  of  half  curl  around  his  forehead. 


24  AV  WAR  TIME. 

Her  consciousness  as  to  much  of  her  brother's 
outer  range  of  feelings  was  almost  instinctive,  al- 
though, of  course,  it  misled  her  often  enough. 

"  I  knew  that  was  it,"  she  said,  with  a  loving 
sense  of  appreciation.  "  I  was  sure  it  was  that. 
What  has  happened  at  the  hospital !  I  heard  Dr. 
Lagrange  call  you  back.  Oh,  it  was  n't  about  be- 
ing late  —  and  such  a  hot  day,  too  !  " 

"  No,  I  was  n't  bothered  about  that.  It  was 
about  a  sudden  death,  that  happened  just  before  I 
left.  You  may  remember  that  officer  in  the  far 
corner  of  the  ward." 

"  What,  that  nice  young  fellow,  a  mere  boy ! 
Oh,  Ezra,"  she  added,  after  a  pause,  "  I  sometimes 
thank  God,  in  these  war  times  that  I  am  not  a 
mother !  Do  you  think  it  's  wrong  to  feel  that 
way,  brother  ?  " 

"  Nonsense,  Ann !  You  might  find  enough  to 
annoy  yourself  about,  besides  that.  When  some 
one  comes  for  sister  Ann  you  can  begin  to  think 
about  the  matter.  What  's  the  use  of  settling 
theoretical  cases?  There's  quite  enough  of  real 
bother  in  life  that  one  can't  escape,  and  is  forced 
to  reason  about." 

Ann  arose,  her  eyes  filling.  "  Yes,"  she  said, 
"  yes  —  I  dare  say,"  her  thoughts  for  a  moment  far 
off,  recalling  a  time  when,  years  before,  she  had 
been  obliged  to  decide  whether  she  should  give  up 
her  life  with  her  brother  and  father,  and  go  to  the 
West  to  share  the  love  and  wealthier  surroundings 
of  a  man  whose  claim  upon  her  was,  she  felt,  an 


IN  WAR  TIME.  25 

honest  and  loving  one.  Had  he  too  been  poor,  and 
had  she  been  called  by  him  to  bear  a  life  of  strug- 
gle, it  is  possible  she  might  have  yielded.  As  it 
was,  habitual  affection  and  some  vague  sense  of  her 
power  to  fill  the  wants  of  her  brother's  existence 
made  the  woman's  craving  for  self-sacrifice,  as  a 
proof  to  herself  of  the  quality  of  her  love,  sufficient 
to  decide  her,  and  she  had  turned  away  gently,  but 
decisively,  from  a  life  of  ease.  Yet  sometimes  all 
the  lost  loveliness  of  a  mother's  duties  overwhelmed 
her  for  a  dreaming  moment.  "  Yes,"  she  said,  at 
last,  "  you  are  right.  It 's  always  best  to  live  in 
the  day  that  is  with  us.  But  what  I  wanted  to  say 
was  that  you  must  not  let  such  inevitable  things  as 
a  death  no  one  could  have  prevented  overcome  you 
so  as  to  unsettle  you  and  lessen  your  usefulness  to 
others." 

"  Oh,  no,  of  course  not !  "  He  felt  annoyed : 
this  lad  pursued  him  like  a  ghost.  "  Don't  let  us 
talk  of  it  any  more,"  he  said.  "  I  broke  my  meer- 
schaum, coming  home." 

"  Oh,  did  you  ?     But  I  'm  very  sorry,  Ezra." 

"Yes;  it  seemed  like  the  death  of  an  old 
friend." 

"  Don't  you  think  that  is  a  great  deal  to  say,  — 
an  old  friend?" 

"Not  half  enough." 

She  saw  that  he  was  annoyed,  and,  knowing  well 
the  nature  of  the  mood  which  possessed  him,  re- 
turned. 

"Ah,  well,  brother,  we  will  buy  another  friend 


26  IN  WAR  TIME. 

to-morrow,  and  age  him  as  fast  as  possible.  Bless 
me,  it  is  ten  o'clock ! "  and  she  began  to  move 
about  the  room,  and  to  put  things  in  the  usual  neat 
state  in  which  she  kept  their  sitting-room.  The 
books  were  rearranged,  the  bits  of  thread  or  paper 
carefully  picked  up,  a  chair  or  two  pushed  back,  a 
crooked  table  cover  drawn  into  place. 

This  was  a  small  but  regularly  repeated  torment 
to  Wendell.  He  did  not  dislike  a  neat  parlor,  — 
nay,  would  have  felt  the  want  of  neatness  ;  but  this 
little  bustle  and  stir  at  the  calmest  time  of  the 
day  disturbed  him,  while  he  knew  that  in  this,  as 
in  some  other  matters,  Ann  was  immovable,  so  that 
as  a  rule  he  had  ceased  to  resist,  as  he  usually  did 
cease  to  resist  where  the  opposition  was  positive 
and  enduring. 

This  time,  however,  he  exclaimed,  "  I  do  wish, 
Ann,  for  once,  you  would  go  to  bed  quietly !  " 

"  Why,  of  course,  you  dear  old  boy !  I  just 
want  to  straighten  things  up  a  little,  and  then  to 
read  to  you  a  bit." 

"  I  would  like  that.    Read  me  Browning's  Saul." 

"  Yes,"  she  returned  cheerfully,  "  that  is  always 
good  ; "  and  so  read  aloud  with  simple  and  earnest 
pleasure  that  exquisite  poem. 

It  soothed  the  man  as  the  harp  of  the  boy  shep- 
herd soothed  the  king. 

"  What  noble  verse  !  "  he  said.  "  Read  again, 
Ann,  that  part  beginning,  '  And  the  joy  of  mere 
living,'  and  humor  the  rhythm  a  little.  I  think  it 
is  a  mistake  of  most  readers  to  affect  to  follow  the 


IN  WAR  TIME.  27 

sense  so  as  to  make  a  poem  seem  in  the  reading 
like  prose,  as  if  the  rhythm  were  not  meant  to  be  a 
kind  of  musical  accompaniment  of  exalted  thought 
and  sentiment.  How  you  hear  the  harp  in  it !  I 
never  knew  anybody  to  speak  of  the  pleasure  a  poet 
must  have  in  writing  such  verse  as  that.  It  must 
sing  to  him  as  sweetly  as  to  any  one  else,  and  more 
freshly." 

"  Yes,"  said  Ann.  "  I  have  seen  somewhere 
that  everybody  who  writes  verse  thinks  his  own 
delightful." 

"No  doubt,  —  as  every  woman's  last  baby  is  the 
most  charming.  But  I  should  think  that  neither 
motherhood  nor  paternity  of  verse  could  quite 
make  the  critical  faculty  impossible.  Shakespeare 
must  have  been  able  to  appreciate  Hamlet  duly." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ann. 

Her  brother  often  got  quite  above  her  in  his 
talk,  and  then  she  either  gave  up  with  a  sort  of 
gasp,  as  the  air  into  which  he  rose  became  too  thin 
for  her  intellectual  lungs,  or  else  she  made  more  or 
less  successful  effort  to  follow  the  flights,  or  at 
least  to  deceive  him  into  the  belief  that  she  did  so. 

Her  brother  was  fond  of  Hamlet,  which  has 
been,  and  always  will  be,  the  favorite  riddle  of 
many  thoughtful  men.  He  liked  to  read  it  to  her, 
and  to  have  it  read  to  him.  She  had  suddenly 
now  one  of  those  brief  inspirations  which  astonish 
us  at  times  in  unanalytic  people.  She  said,  "I 
sometimes  think  Hamlet  was  like  you,  —  a  little 
like  you,  brother ! " 


28  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Ezra  looked  up  at  his  sister  with  amused  sur- 
prise. Human  nature,  he  reflected  to  himself,  is 
inexhaustible,  and  we  may  rest  sure  that  on  Methu- 
selah's nine  hundred  and  sixty-ninth  birthday  he 
might  have  startled  his  family  by  some  novelty  of 
word  or  deed. 

"  I  hardly  know  if  it  be  a  compliment,"  he  said 
aloud,  with  a  little  smile.  "I  should  like  to  be 
sure  of  what  Hamlet's  sister  would  have  said  of 
him.  Go  to  bed  and  think  about  it !  " 

After  Ann  had  left  him, Wendell  himself  retired 
to  what  was  known  as  his  office,  a  back  room  with 
a  southern  outlook  on  the  garden.  Here  were  a  few 
medical  books,  two  or  three  metaphysical  treatises, 
a  mixture  of  others  on  the  use  of  the  microscope 
and  on  botany,  with  odd  volumes  of  the  older  and 
less  known  dramatists,  and  a  miscellaneous  collec- 
tion representing  science  and  sentiment.  On  the 
table  was  a  small  microscope,  and  a  glass  dish  or 
two,  with  minute  water  plants,  making  a  nursery 
for  some  of  the  lesser  forms  of  animal  and  vegeta- 
ble life.  In  a  few  minutes  Wendell,  absorbed,  was 
gazing  into  the  microscope  at  the  tiny  dramas 
t/ which  the  domestic  life  of  a  curious  pseudopod 
presented.  He  soon  began  to  draw  it  with  much 
adroitness.  It  is  possible  for  some  men  to  pursue 
every  object,  their  duties  and  their  pleasures,  with 
equal  energy,  nor  is  it  always  true  that  the  Jack-of- 
all-trades  is  master  of  none ;  but  it  was  true  of  this 
man  that,  however  well  he  did  things,  —  and  he  did 
many  things  well,  —  he  did  none  with  sufficient  in- 


IN   WAR   TIME.  29 

tensity  of  purpose,  or  with  such  steadiness  of  effort 
as  to  win  high  success  in  any  one  of  them. 

It  was  nearly  twelve  o'clock  when  he  was  startled 
by  hearing  his  sister  call,  "  Ezra,  Ezra !  Do  go  to 
bed.  You  will  oversleep  yourself  in  the  morning." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  he  answered,  quite  accus- 
tomed to  her  warning  care.  "  Good  night.  I 
won't  sit  up  any  later.  It  is  all  right." 

Ann  sighed,  as  she  stood  barefooted  on  the 
stairs,  and  had  she  known  Mr.  Pickwick  might 
have  shared  his  inward  presentiment. 


m. 

DB.  WENDELL  had  very  early  acquired  a  few 
patients  in  the  widely  scattered  village.  Most  of 
them  were  poor,  and  were  either  mechanics,  or  else 
workmen  attached  to  the  many  woolen  mills  in  his 
neighborhood.  But  as  time  went  on  he  had  also 
attracted,  by  degrees,  a  few  of  a  somewhat  better 
class.  His  manners  were  gentle  and  amiable,  and 
manners  have  a  good  deal  to  do  with  business  suc- 
cess in  medicine,  —  indeed  sometimes  insure  a  fair 
amount  of  it  even  where  their  possessor  has  but  a 
moderate  share  of  brains,  since  patients  are  rarely 
competent  critics  as  to  all  that  ought  to  go  to  make 
up  a  doctor,  and  in  fact  cannot  be. 

Meanwhile,  his  life  was  not  a  hard  one.  He 
spent  his  early  morning  at  the  hospital,  after  see- 
ing any  urgent  cases  near  his  home ;  and,  return- 
ing to  Germantown  for  his  midday  meal,  went 
back  to  the  hospital  to  make  the  afternoon  visit. 

The  next  day,  after  the  events  we  have  described, 
as  he  came,  on  his  usual  evening  round,  to  the  beds 
of  Major  Morton  and  Captain  Gray,  the  Confeder- 
ate officer,  he  was  interested  to  see  that  his  sister 
had  accomplished  her  errand,  and  was  standing  be- 
side Morton,  in  company  with  a  lady,  and  a  tall  and 
handsome  lad  who  might  have  been  seventeen  years 


IN  WAR  TIME.  31 

of  age  or  more.  Glancing  at  the  group,  Wendell 
went  first  to  the  wounded  rebel,  whose  face  bright- 
ened visibly  at  the  coming  of  the  surgeon. 

"  I  have  been  waiting  to  see  you,"  he  said.  "  I 
don't  think  I  am  as  well  as  I  was.  I  feel  the  be- 
ing shut  up  here.  It 's  such  an  awful  change  from 
the  saddle  and  the  open  air !  Please  to  sit  down, 
doctor,  and  don't  be  in  a  hurry.  I  must  talk  to  you 
a  little.  You  doctors  are  always  in  such  a  hurry !  " 

"  It 's  rather  hard  to  help  it,"  replied  Wendell, 
good-humoredly  :  "  but  is  there  anything  especial  I 
can  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  want  to  know  distinctly  if  I  can  pull 
through.  It 's  a  thing  you  doctors  hate  to  be  asked, 
but  still  it  is  a  question  I  would  like  to  have  an- 
swered." 

"  I  do  not  see  why  you  cannot.  You  have  a  seri- 
ous wound,  but  you  were  not  hurt  in  any  vital  or- 
gan. /  should  say  you  ought  to  get  well." 

"  Well,  it 's  a  pretty  grim  business  with  me,  doc- 
tor. I  am  alone  in  the  world  with  one  motherless 
girl,  and  I  want  to  get  well !  I  must  get  well !  " 

"  And  so  you  will." 

"  No ;  to  tell  you  the  truth,  that 's  my  trouble.  I 
don't  think  I  shall." 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  Wendell,  "you  may  say  you 
don't  feel  as  if  you  should  ;  but  when  you  say  you 
don't  think  you  will,  I  am  afraid  I  feel  inclined  to 
/  laugh,  which  is  perhaps  very  best  thing  I  can  do 
for  you.  Is  n't  it  as  well  to  let  me  do  the  thinking 
for  you?" 


32  IN   WAR  TIME. 

"I  can't  explain  it,"  said  Gray,  dolefully,  "but 
the  idea  sticks  in  my  head  that  I  shall  die." 

"But  why?  Are  you  weaker?  Do  you  suffer 
more?" 

"  No  ;  I  have  nothing  new  except  a  queer  sensa- 
tion of  confusion  in  my  head,  and  —  then  I  can't 
change  my  ideas  at  will.  They  stick  like  burrs, 
and  —  I  can't  get  rid  of  them." 

"  Quinine,  I  guess,"  said  Wendell,  lightly. 

"  No ;  I  've  taken  no  end  of  that,  in  my  time. 
I  know  how  that  feels.  Would  you  mind  asking 
Dr.  Lagrange  to  see  me?" 

"  Oh,  of  course  not ;  but  it  is  a  rule  not  to  call 
on  the  surgeon  in  charge  unless  there  is  some  grave 
necessity." 

"  Well,  I  don't  want  to  violate  any  rules.  You 
are  all  very  kind,  and  for  a  prisoner  I  ought  to  be 
satisfied  ;  but  I  am  sure  that  I  am  going  to  die." 

"I  do  most  honestly  think  you  are  needlessly 
alarmed,"  Wendell  replied ;  "  but  if  you  wish  it,  I 
will  ask  the  doctor  to  look  at  you." 

The  assistant  surgeon  had  a  faint  but  distinct 
impression  that  this  wish  implied  a  distrust  of  his 
own  judgment,  and  to  one  of  his  temperament  this 
was  displeasing;  yet  knowing  the  request  to  be 
not  unreasonable,  he  at  once  sent  an  orderly  for  the 
surgeon  in  charge,  and  saying,  "  I  will  see  you  with 
Dr.  Lagrange  in  a  few  minutes,"  turned  to  the 
other  bed. 

Major  Morton  looked  better ;  his  mustache  was 
trimmed,  and  the  long  Vandyke  beard  became  well 
his  rather  sombre  face. 


IN   WAR   TIME.  33 

"  This  is  my  wife,"  he  said.  "  Dr.  Wendell  — 
Mrs.  Morton,"  —  Mrs.  Morton  bowed  across  the 
bed,  —  "  and  my  boy  Arthur.  They  have  just 
come,  doctor;  and  do  not  you  think  I  could  be 
moved  to  a  hotel  to-day?  " 

"  Well,  hardly;  but  I  will  talk  it  over  with  Dr. 
Lagrange,  who  will  be  here  presently." 

Busying  himself  in  getting  chairs  brought  for  the 
patient's  friends,  he  glanced  at  them  more  atten- 
tively, —  little  dreaming  what  share  in  his  future 
the  manly  lad  and  his  handsome,  somewhat  stately 
mother  were  to  have.  Her  perfectly  simple  man- 
ners, touched  with  a  certain  coldness  and  calm 
which  made  any  little  display  of  feeling  in  her 
tones  the  more  impressive,  had  their  full  effect  on 
Wendell.  This  type  of  woman  was  strange  to  him. 
Her  husband  might  have  been  full  forty,  and  she 
herself  some  three  or  four  years  his  junior;  but 
she  was  yet  in  the  vigor  of  womanhood,  and  moved 
with  the  easy  grace  of  one  accustomed  to  the  world. 
Whatever  were  her  relations  to  her  husband, — 
and  they  had  met,  as  Wendell  learned  afterwards 
from  his  sister,  without  any  marked  effusion  in 
their  greeting, — for  all  other  men,  at  least,  she 
had  a  certain  attractiveness,  difficult  to  analyze. 
/  The  type  was,  as  I  have  said,  a  novel  one  to 
Wendell ;  nor  was  he  wrong  in  the  feeling,  which 
came  to  him  with  better  knowledge  of  her  and 
more  accurate  observation,  that  the  satisfaction 
which  she  gave  him  lay  in  a  group  of  qualities  which 
beauty  may  emphasize,  but  which,  like  good  wine, 


34  IN   WAR   TIME. 

acquires  more  delicate  and  subtle  flavors  as  years 
goby. 

"Mr.  Morton  seems  better  than  I  expected  to 
find  him,"  she  said,  "  and  I  know  you  must  have 
taken  admirable  care  of  him.  With  your  help,  I 
am  sure  we  could  get  him  to  a  hotel ;  and  then  in 
a  few  days  I  might  open  our  country  house  on  the 
Wissahickon,  and  we  could  easily  carry  him  there, 
—  easily,  quite  easily,"  she  added,  with  a  gentle 
but  emphatic  gesture  of  shutting  her  fan. 

Wendell  had  less  doubt  after  she  had  spoken 
than  before.  In  fact,  his  intellectual  judgment  of 
the  case  was  unaltered ;  but  although  his  medical 
opinions  upon  a  disease,  or  a  crisis  of  it,  were  apt, 
like  the  action  of  the  compass  needle,  to  be  correct, 
they  were  as  liable  to  causes  of  disturbance,  and 
were  likely  to  become  doubtful  to  their  originator  in 
the  face  of  positive  opponent  sentiments ;  or  even 
of  obstacles  to  their  practical  results  which  should 
never  have  had  any  influence.  Although  uncon- 
scious of  it,  he  was  in  this  manner  quite  fre- 
quently controlled  by  his  sister's  tranquil  decisive- 
ness. Without  knowing  why  he  yielded,  he  began 
now  to  edge  over  mentally  to  Mrs.  Morton's  side 
of  the  argument. 

He  said,  in  reply  to  her,  "  Of  course,  if  you  have 
a  country  house,  that  would  make  the  change  more 


In  fact,  it  seemed  pleasantly  natural  to  find  a 
ground  of  agreement  with  this  woman,  whose  state- 
liness  made  her  courtesy  yet  more  gracious.  She 


IN  WAR  TIME.  35 

herself  did  not,  it  is  true,  see  very  clearly  the  rea- 
sonableness of  his  answer,  but  she  was  not  appar- 
ently surprised  at  his  defection  from  his  former 
statement. 

"  We  '11  settle  it  somehow,"  groaned  the  major. 
"  Do  something ;  get  me  out  of  this  den,  at  least. 
The  rebels  were  a  trifle  to  these  flies !  " 

"Of  course,  my  dear,"  assented  Mrs.  Morton, 
"  I  wanted  to  feel  that  Dr.  —  Dr.  —  you  said  "  — 

"  Wendell,  —  Wendell  is  my  name." 

"  Oh,  yes,  Dr.  Wendell  1  I  was  thinking  more 
of  the  kind  remark  you  had  made  than  of  your 
name !  It  is  a  good  old  New  England  surname,  I 
think.  But  before  Dr.  Lagrange  comes,  I  want  to 
say  how  gratified  I  am  to  find  that  the  decision  to 
which  my  own  anxiety  leads  me  should  be  justified 
by  your  medical  judgment." 

Wendell  was  a  little  taken  aback  at  this  ready 
assumption.  As  he  looked  up,  hardly  knowing 
what  answer  to  make,  Dr.  Lagrange  came  hastily 
to  join  their  group,  and  was  met  by  Mrs.  Morton, 
with  whom  he  was  evidently  on  terms  of  easy  ac- 
quaintanceship . 

"  Dr.  Wendell  is,  I  think,  rather  inclined  to  be- 
lieve that  the  major  may  be  taken  to  a  hotel,  and 
in  a  few  days  moved  out  to  our  country  home.  I 
hope  our  doctors  won't  differ.  What  do  you 
think?" 

"  Ah,  my  lady,"  and  the  surgeon  shook  his  finger 
at  her  warningly,  "  you  have  changed  many  folks, 
—  I  mean,  many  men's  ideas ;  and  I  fancy  you  are 


36  IN  WAR  TIME. 

keeping  your  hand  in  with  my  young  friend.  I 
don't  think  that  this  morning,  before  you  came, 
when  we  discussed  the  question,  Dr.  Wendell  was 
then  quite  of  your  opinion." 

Wendell  exclaimed,  "  I  did  not  at  that  time  un- 
derstand "  — 

"Oh,  I  dare  say  not,  and  I  don't  blame  you 
much  for  taking  Mrs.  Morton's  view.  But  practi- 
cally, my  good  friends,  Morton's  leg  must  be  taken 
into  account ! " 

"Of  course,"  replied  Mrs.  Morton,  "that  is  the 
first  consideration,  and  really  the  only  one." 

"He  has,"  urged  Lagrange,  "a  rather  serious 
wound,  and  to-day  a  quick  pulse  and  a  little  fever. 
I  would  rather  he  waited  a  few  days,  —  two  or 
three,  perhaps."  Then  Wendell  spoke  eagerly, 
under  his  breath,  a  few  words  to  his  superior,  on 
which  the  latter  continued,  "  Yes,  that  will  do.  In- 
deed, I  am  very  much  obliged  by  your  thoughtful- 
ness  for  my  friend.  Dr.  Wendell  has,"  and  he 
turned  to  Mrs.  Morton,  "  a  room  in  the  hospital,  a 
very  good  and  airy  room,  which  he  wishes  Major 
Morton  to  occupy." 

Wendell  added,  "It  is  no  great  sacrifice,  as  I 
rarely  use  it  at  night;  but  in  any  case,  Major 
Morton  is  welcome  to  it." 

The  young  fellow  at  Morton's  side  had  been  thus 
far  a  listener.  Now  he  exclaimed,  warmly,  "  Thank 
you  very  much,  sir!  It  is  a  great  kindness  to  give 
to  a  stranger." 

"  For  my  part,"  said  Mrs.  Morton,  "  I  have  not 
the  courage  to  refuse." 


IN   WAR  TIME.  37 

"  I  should  think  not !  "  cried  the  major.  "  By 
Jove,  refuse !  "  and  he  contributed  his  own  share 
of  thanks,  with  a  reasonable  amount  of  emphasis. 
Then  he  asked,  "  Are  there  nets  in  the  windows  ?  " 

"Yes,"  returned  Wendell,  a  little  amused. 

"And  is  the  room  a  good  size?" 

"  Quite  needlessly  large  for  one,"  answered  La- 
grange,  quickly,  "and  we  are  very  full.  Would 
you  mind  sharing  it  with  another  officer  ?  It  will 
be  only  for  a  day  or  two." 

Morton  did  not  like  the  prospect,  but  saw  at 
once  the  need  to  yield. 

"  Of  course,"  he  replied,  "  if  you  are  crowded ; 
but  I  would  rather,"  and  he  spoke  low,  "have  my 
rebel  neighbor  than  some  one  I  do  not  know  at 
all." 

"  But,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Morton,  "  I  am  sure  that 
when  Dr.  Lagrange  considers  it  he  will  see  that 
you  would  be  far  more  comfortable  alone." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  returned  Lagrange,  "  that  I  must 
accept  the  major's  proposition.  And  now  I  shall 
run  away,  for  fear  you  persuade  me  to  change  my 
mind;  and  I  shall  take  Wendell,  lest  you  get  him, 
too,  into  some  mischief.  Come,  doctor,  let  us  see 
Gray ! "  He  turned  smiling  to  the  rebel  officer, 
with  whom  he  conversed  attentively  and  patiently 
for  some  time.  Then  he  moved  away  with  a  cheer- 
ful face  from  the  bed,  saying  some  pleasantly  hope- 
ful words  of  the  comforts  of  the  new  room.  But 
as  soon  as  he  was  out  of  earshot  he  spoke  to  his 
junior,  "  Watch  that  man  well.  There  is  some- 


38  IN  WAR  TIME. 

thing  odd  in  his  manner.  He  has  a  way  of  empha- 
sizing all  his  words.  Perhaps  it  is  natural,  but  I 
never  like  to  hear  a  wounded  man  insist  that  he  is 
going  to  die  !  And  by  the  way,  stick  to  your  own 
opinions,  and  don't  let  the  pressure  or  notions  of 
lay  folks  push  you  off  a  path  you  meant  to  tread. 
Mrs.  Morton  is  what  my  old  nurse  used  to  call 
'main  masterful,'  but  I  have  found  her,  as  you 
may,  a  good  friend.  In  fact,  they  are  not  very  far- 
away neighbors  of  yours.  I  will  remember  this 
when  they  move  Morton  to  the  country." 

Wendell  thanked  him.  He  felt  that  he  himself 
had  done  a  gracious  and  serviceable  act  to  pleasant 
people. 

"  And  what  a  fine  lad  that  is,  of  Morton's !  "  said 
Lagrange.  "  I  like  his  face." 

"Yes;  a  nice  boy,  I  should  think,"  returned 
Wendell. 

When  the  two  officers,  the  next  morning,  were 
eagerly  eating  a  well-cooked  breakfast,  in  their  new 
and  cheerful  quarters,  under  the  care  of  an  orderly 
assigned  to  them  by  Wendell,  Morton,  who  was  in 
high  good-humor,  remarked,  "  By  George,  this  is 
better  than  that  ward !  I  feel  like  myself." 

"  It  is  certainly  more  comfortable,"  rejoined  his 
room-mate,  —  "good  coffee,  fruit,  —  I  have  n't  seen 
an  orange  before  for  a  year,  —  but  I  don't  feel  quite 
right  yet." 

"  Oh,  you  '11  come  up,"  said  Morton,  who  was 
apt  to  relate  the  condition  of  others  to  his  own 
state. 


IN  WAR  TIME.  39 

"  I  suppose  so,  —  I  hope  so  !     But  I  don't  feel 

sure,  and  that  strikes  me  as  odd,  because  I  have 

been  hit  before,  and  never  had  the  depression  I  now 

^  feel.     Then  that  lad  of  yours  made  me  think  about 

my  own  child." 

"And  where  is  he?" 

"  At  school.  It 's  a  girl.  I  did  not  tell  you  it 
was  a  girl.  She  has  been  at  school  in  Rahway.  I 
could  not  either  get  her  away  or  send  money  to  her, 
and  she  and  I  are  pretty  much  alone  in  the  world. 
By  George,  I  don't  suppose  she  would  know  me !  " 

"Why  not  send  for  her?"  suggested  Morton, 
whose  enormous  increase  in  comfort  disposed  him 
to  indulge  his  usual  desire  that  everybody  about 
him  should  be  satisfied,  provided  it  did  not  incom- 
mode Major  Morton.  "  We  '11  get  that  doctor  of 
ours  to  ask  his  sister  to  write  and  have  the  child 
brought  on  to  see  you,  and  my  wife  can  take  care 
of  her  for  a  few  days." 

"  But  I  have  absolutely  no  money  !  " 

On  this  point  Morton  was  delightfully  indiffer- 
ent. He  had  always  had  money  and  what  money 
l/  buys,  and  just  now,  in  the  ennui  of  illness  this  man 
interested  him. 

"  I  can  lend  you  what  you  want.  I  '11  arrange 
it." 

"  I  do  not  know  how  I  can  thank  you  !  " 

"  Then  don't  do  it."  The  major  was  languidly 
good-natured,  and  had  the  amiability  so  common 
among  selfish  people.  A  West  Point  man  by  ed- 
ucation, he  had  served  his  two  years  on  the  plains, 


40  IN   WAR  TIME. 

and  then  left  the  army,  to  return  to  it  with  eager- 
ness,  as  it  offered  command,  which  he  loved,  and  a 
rescue,  for  a  time  at  least,  from  the  monotony  of  a 
life  without  serious  aim  or  ambition. 

After  some  further  talk  about  the  girl,  Morton 
asked,  "  Where  were  you  in  that  infernal  row  at 
Gettysburg  ?  There 's  no  use  in  either  of  our 
armies  attacking  the  other.  The  fellows  who  try 
it  always  get  thrashed.  I  began  to  think  we  should 
never  be  anything  else  but  thrashed." 

"  I  am  sorry  the  charm  is  broken !  "  said  Gray. 
"  I  was  in  the  Third  South  Carolina,  when  we  got 
our  quietus  on  the  crest  of  Cemetery  Hill.  What 
a  scene  that  was  !  I  can  see  it  now.  I  was  twice 
in  among  your  people,  and  twice  back  among  my 
own  ;  but  how,  I  can  no  more  tell  than  fly.  Once 
I  was  knocked  down  with  a  stone.  It  was  like  a 
devilish  sort  of  Donnybrook  fair." 

"  How  were  you  hurt  ?  I  was  on  the  crest  my- 
self, and  after  I  got  this  accursed  ball  in  my  leg  I 
lay  there,  and  as  I  got  a  chance  in  the  smoke  I 
cracked  away  with  my  revolver.  I  remember 
thinking  it  queer  that  I  never  had  struck  a  man  in 
anger  since  I  grew  up,  and  here  I  was  in  a  mob  of 
blood-mad  men,  and  in  a  frenzy  to  kill  some  one. 
DroU,  is  n't  it?" 

"  For  my  part,"  returned  Gray,  "  I  was  as  crazy 
as  the  rest  until  I  got  a  pistol  ball  in  my  right 
shoulder.  By  George,  perhaps  you  are  the  very 
man  who  shot  me !  " 

"I  am  rather  pleased  to  be  able  to  say,"  re- 


IN  WAR   TIME.  41 

sponded  Morton,  stiffly,  "  that  I  do  not  know  whom 
I  shot." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  think  it  was  you." 

"  And  why,  please  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  would  be  a  comfort  to  know  it  was  a 
gentleman." 

The  idea  had  in  it  nothing  absurd  to  Morton. 
He  thought  that  perhaps  he  would  have  felt  so  him- 
self, but  he  was  pretty  sure  that  he  would  not  have 
said  so,  and  he  answered  with  perfect  tact :  "  For 
any  other  reason,  I  should  infinitely  regret  to  think 
it  had  been  I ;  and  were  it  surely  I,  your  pleasant 
reason  would  not  lessen  the  annoyance  I  should 
feel ;  "  and  then,  laughing,  "  I  will  promise  not  to 
do  it  any  more." 

At  this  moment  Wendell  came  in,  and,  seeing 
the  flushed  face  of  Captain  Gray,  said,  — 
.-     "I  think  I  would  n't  talk  much,  and  above  all 
don't  discuss  the  war." 

"  Oh,  confound  the  war,  doctor !  "  exclaimed 
Morton.  "  It  is  only  the  editors  who  fight  off  of 
battle  fields.  However,  we  promise  to  be  good 
boys!" 

"  I  don't  think  our  talk  hurts  me,"  said  Gray. 
"  I  was  saying  that  perhaps  the  major  might  be  the 
man  who  shot  me.  Queer  idea,  was  n't  it  ?  And 
what  is  more  odd,  it  seems  to  keep  going  through 
my  head.  What 's  that  Tennyson  says  about  the 
echo  of  a  silent  song  that  comes  and  goes  a  thou- 
sand times  ?  " 
(/"  A  brain  echo  ?  "  murmured  WendeU.  "  I,  for 


42  IN  WAR  TIME. 

one,  should  n't  think  it  very  satisfactory  to  know 
who  shot  me.  I  should  only  hate  the  man  unrea- 
sonably." 

"  But  don't  you  think  that  it  would  be  pleasanter 
to  know  he  was  a  gentleman  ?  " 

To  Wendell,  with  all  his  natural  refinement,  the 
sentiment  appeared  inconceivably  ludicrous,  and, 
laughing  aloud,  he  rejoined,  "  I  don't  think  I  can 
settle  that  question,  but  I  hope  you  will  quit  talk- 
ing. I  will  get  you  some  books,  if  you  like.  Oh, 
by  the  way,  here  are  the  papers ;  "  and  so  saying 
he  walked  away,  much  amused,  and  in  a  mood  of 
analytic  wonder  at  the  state  of  mind  and  the  form 
of  social  education  which  could  bring  a  man  to 
give  utterance  to  so  quaint  an  idea. 

A  moment  later  he  returned  to  the  bedside  to 
discuss  a  request  of  the  major,  who  asked  him  to 
write  about  Captain  Gray's  child. 

"  If  you  wish  it,"  said  Wendell,  "  I  think  my 
sister  might  go  to  Railway." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Gray ;  "  that  is  quite  too  much 
to  ask." 

"  Then,"  suggested  Morton,  "  as  you  are  so  kind, 
could  n't  you  take  the  little  girl  in  for  a  few  days, 
doctor  ?  I  —  that  is  to  say,  there  will  be  no  trouble 
about  the  board." 

"  Certainly,  if  you  wish  it,"  answered  the  doctor. 
"I  am  quite  sure  that  my  sister  will  not  object. 
Ann  shall  write  at  once.  But  is  that  all  ?  Can  I 
do  anything  else  for  you  ?  No  ?  Well,  then,  good- 
night" 


IV. 

AMONG  the  many  permanent  marks  which  the 
great  war  left  upon  the  life  of  the  nation,  and  that 
of  its  constituent  genera  of  human  atoms,  none 
were  more  deep  and  more  alterative  than  those 
with  which  it  stamped  the  profession  of  medicine. 
In  all  other  lands  medicine  had  places  of  trust  and 
even  of  power,  in  some  way  related  to  government; 
but  with  us,  save  when  some  unfortunate  physician 
was  abruptly  called  into  public  notice  by  a  judi- 
cial trial,  and  shared  for  a  time  with  ward  politi- 
cians the  temperate  calm  of  newspaper  statements, 
he  lived  unnoted  by  the  great  public,  and  for  all 
the  larger  uses  he  should  have  had  for  the  common- 
wealth quite  unemployed.  The  war  changed  the 
relations  of  the  profession  to  the  state  and  to  the 
national  life,  and  hardly  less  remarkably  altered  its 
standards  of  what  it  should  and  must  demand  of  it- 
self in  the  future.  Our  great  struggle  found  it,  as 
a  calling,  with  little  of  the  national  regard.  It 
found  it  more  or  less  humble,  with  reason  enough 
to  be  so.  It  left  it  with  a  pride  justified  by  con- 
duct which  blazoned  its  scutcheon  with  endless  sac- 
rifices and  great  intellectual  achievements,  as  well 
as  with  a  professional  conscience  educated  by  the 
patient  performance  of  every  varied  form  of  duty 


44  IN  WAR  TIME. 

which  the  multiplied  calls  of  a  hard-pressed  coun- 
try could  make  upon  its  mental  and  moral  life. 

Vast  hospitals  were  planned  and  admirably  built, 
without  the  advice  of  architects,  by  physicians,  who 
had  to  learn  as  they  went  along  the  special  con- 
structive needs  of  different  climates,  and  to  settle 
novel  and  frequent  hygienic  questions  as  they  arose. 
In  and  near  the  locality  of  my  tale,  the  hospitals 
numbered  twenty-five  thousand  beds  for  the  sick 
and  wounded  ;  and  these  huge  villages,  now  drawn 
on  by  the  war,  now  refilled  by  its  constant  strife, 
were  managed  with  a  skill  which  justified  the 
American  test  of  hotel-keeping  as  a  gauge  of  abil- 
ity. A  surgeon  taken  abruptly  from  civil  life,  a 
country  physician,  a  retired  naval  surgeon,  were 
fair  specimens  of  the  class  on  which  fell  these  enor- 
mous responsibilities.  We  may  well  look  back 
with  gratification  and  wonder  at  the  exactness,  the 
discipline,  the  comfort,  which  reigned  in  most  of 
these  vast  institutions. 

In  this  evolution  of  hitherto  unused  capacities, 
Dr.  Wendell  shared.  In  some  ways  it  did  him 
good  service,  and  in  others  it  was  harmful.  The 
definiteness  of  hospital  duty  was  for  a  man  so  un- 
energetic  of  great  value.  He  was  a  wheel  in  a 
great  piece  of  mechanism,  and  had  to  move  with 
the  rest  of  it.  In  time  this  might  have  substantially 
altered  his  habits ;  but  in  a  hospital  there  are,  as 
elsewhere,  opportunities  for  self-indulgence ;  indeed, 
more  in  a  military  hospital  than  elsewhere,  since 
there  the  doctor  lacks  largely  the  private  criticism 


72V  WAR  TIME.  45 

and  the  demands  of  influential  patients,  which  in  a 
measure  help  to  keep  men  alert  in  mind,  thought- 
ful, and  accurate.  Moreover,  the  rush  and  hurry  of 
the  wholesale  practice  of  medicine,  inseparable  from 
overflowing  military  hospitals,  was  hostile  to  the 
calm  study  of  cases,  and  to  the  increasing  exactions 
which  new  and  accurate  methods  of  diagnosis  and 
treatment  were  then,  and  are  now,  making.  On 
the  whole,  the  effect  on  Wendell  was  bad.  He  did 
his  work,  and,  as  he  was  intelligent,  often  did  it 
well ;  but  his  medical  conscience,  overweighted  by 
the  need  for  incessant  wakefulness,  and  enfeebled 
by  natural  love  of  ease  and  of  mere  intellectual 
luxuries,  suffered  from  the  life  he  led,  and  carried 
into  his  after  days  more  or  less  of  the  resultant 
evil.  Happily  for  his  peace  of  mind,  as  for  that  of 
many  doctors,  no  keen  critic  followed  him,  or  could 
follow  him,  through  the  little  errors  of  unthought- 
ful  work,  often  great  in  result,  which  grew  as  he 
continued  to  do  his  slipshod  tasks.  Like  all  men 
who  practice  that  which  is  part  art,  part  science, 
he  lived  in  a  world  of  possible,  and  I  may  say  of 
reasonable,  excuses  for  failures  ;  and  no  man  knew 
better  than  he  how  to  use  his  intellect  to  apologize 
to  himself  for  lack  of  strict  obedience  to  the  moral 
code  by  which  his  profession  justly  tests  the  charac- 
ter of  its  own  labor. 

When  Wendell  reported  for  duty,  on  the  follow- 
ing day,  and  had  signed,  as  usual,  the  roll  which 
indicated  that  he  was  present  at  a  set  hour,  he  was 
told  that  the  surgeon  in  charge  desired  to  see  him ; 


46  IN  WAR  TIME. 

and  accordingly  he  stopped  in  the  little  room  which 
that  officer  reserved  for  his  own  personal  needs. 
As  Wendell  paused  in  front  of  the  table,  Dr.  La- 
grange  looked  up,  and  putting  aside  his  pen  said,  — 

"  Good-morning.  I  have  endeavored,  Dr.  Wen- 
dell, not  to  forget  that  the  gentlemen  on  duty  here 
have  not  all  of  them  had  the  advantage  of  army 
life,  but  there  are  certain  matters  which,  if  not 
of  first  importance,  have  their  value,  and  which  I 
cannot  overlook.  I  observe  that  you  do  not  always 
wear  an  assistant  surgeon's  uniform,  and  that  last 
week,  when  officer  of  the  day,  you  wore  no  sash. 
Pardon  me,  I  am  not  quite  through.  Twice,  of 
late,  you  have  signed  your  name  as  present  at  the 
hour  of  the  morning  visit,  when  in  one  case  it  was 
ten  minutes  after,  and  in  another  eleven  minutes 
after." 

"  I  did  not  think,  sir,  it  could  make  any  differ- 
ence." 

"  That,  sir,  I  must  look  upon  as  a  criticism  of  a 
superior's  opinion.  If  I  did  not,  as  surgeon  in 
charge,  consider  it  of  moment,  I  should  not  have 
spoken ;  but,  and  with  your  permission,  I  now 
speak  only  as  an  older  man,  and  one,  as  you  know, 
who  is  disposed  to  like  and  help  you." 

"  Of  course,  I  shall  be  very  much  obliged,"  Wen- 
dell said.  It  must  be  added  that  he  did  not  feel 
so.  He  inferred  that,  as  he  had  a  better  intellect- 
ual machinery  and  much  wider  knowledge  than 
-/  the  superior  officer,  he  must  -  be  naturally  elevated 
above  the  judgments  of  such  a  person. 


72V  WAR  TIME.  47 

"  It  is  not,"  continued  Lagrange,  "  the  want  of 
punctuality  to  which  I  now  refer,  —  that  is  an 
official  matter.  It  is  that  you  should  shelter  your- 
self under  a  false  statement,  however  minutely 
false." 

Dr.  Wendell  began  with  irritation:  "I  do  not 
think  any  one  could  suspect  me  —  could  suspect 
me  of  that !  " 

"  Then,"  replied  Lagrange,  "  you  were  not  aware 
of  the  hour  ?  I  hope  I  don't  annoy  you.  I  like 
you  too  well  to  do  so  without  cause,  and,  as  I  said, 
I  am  conscious  that  I  am  putting  the  matter  in  an 
unofficial  shape." 

Wendell  bowed,  and,  having  reflected  a  little, 
said,  "  Thank  you,  sir.  Pray  speak  freely.  I  can 
only  be  grateful  for  whatever  you  think  fit  to  say." 

"Well,  then,"  added  Lagrange,  "let  me  go  a 
step  further.  Try  to  be  more  accurate  in  your 
work,  and  —  may  I  say  it  ?  —  a  little  more  ener- 
getic, just  r  little,"  and  the  old  army  surgeon  smil- 
ingly put  out  his  hand.  "  Don't  spoil  my  predic- 
^/fcions  of  success  for  you  in  life !  You  have  better 
brains  than  I  ever  had,  but "  — 

"  Oh,  sir !  "  exclaimed  Wendell,  touched  with 
the  other's  want  of  egotism. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  went  on  Lagrange,  laughing ;  "  but 
I  should  beat  you  at  most  things,  notwithstanding. 
There  —  you  won't  misunderstand  me,  I  am  sure," 
he  added,  with  a  gentle  sweetness,  which  like  most 
bits  of  good  manners  was  alike  pleasant  and  con- 
tagious. 


48  IN  WAR  TIME. 

The  younger  man  returned,  "  You  are  very  good 
to  me.  I  shall  try  to  remember." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Lagrange ;  and  then,  in  his 
official  tones,  "  Have  you  seen  Major  Morton  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,  sir.     I  have  just  come." 

"  True  —  of  course ;  but  that  other  man,  — 
what 's  his  name,  the  rebel  ?  " 

"  Gray,  sir.  He  is  in  a  curious  way.  I  think 
his  head  must  be  wrong.  He  insists  that  Major 
Morton  shot  him." 

"  That  is  strange,"  returned  the  surgeon ;  "  very 
unusual,  in  fact.  Some  accident  sets  an  idea  in  a 
man's  head,  and  there  it  stays.  I  have  heard  of 
such  cases.  I  would  like  to  separate  them  at  once, 
but  we  have  not  a  vacant  bed.  See  him  as  soon  as 


When  Wendell  left  Lagrange's  room  he  went 
immediately  to  visit  Gray.  The  door  was  open, 
to  secure  a  cool  draught  of  air ;  and  hearing  the 
rebel  officer  speaking,  the  assistant  surgeon  paused 
a  moment  to  listen.  The  voice  he  heard  was  de- 
cided, irritated,  and  a  little  loud : 

"  I  think  I  remember  now ;  yes,  sir,  you  were  on 
the  ground.  I  saw  you  shoot,  and  I  don't  blame 
you!" 

"  Good  heavens,  you  could  n't  have  seen  me !  By 
George,  I  never  heard  anything  so  absurd !  Have 
the  goodness  not  to  repeat  it." 

"  You  doubt  my  word,  then,  sir  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  what  stuff !  " 

"  Then  apologize,  sir.     I  say,  apologize !  " 


IN  WAR  TIME.  49 

"Pshaw!" 

At  this  moment  Wendell  entered. 

"  Captain  Gray,"  he  said,  "  this  won't  do !  You 
have  forgotten  your  promise  about  talking.  Come, 
put  this  thermometer  under  your  tongue,"  and  with 
a  finger  on  his  pulse  Wendell  waited  patiently  a 
few  minutes.  "  Hum,"  he  said  to  himself,  not  lik- 
ing the  results  of  his  observation.  Then  he  asked 
a  few  questions,  and  wrote  a  prescription,  which 
meant  decided  and  immediate  treatment. 

"  Am  I  ill  ?  "  said  the  captain. 

"  You  are  ill  enough  to  keep  quiet." 

"  But  he  did  shoot  me." 

"  Nonsense !  You  are  feverish,  and  your  head  is 
out  of  order." 

"  But  he  shot  me !     I  say,  he  shot  me !  " 

"Oh,  confound  it!"  growled  Morton.  "Sup- 
pose I  did?" 

"  There,  I  knew  it,"  exclaimed  Gray,  —  "  I  knew 
it,  sir !  He  says  so." 

"  I  said  no  such  thing  !  Doctor,  may  I  trouble 
you  a  moment  ? "  As  Wendell  approached  his 
bed,  he  added,  "I  cannot  stand  this  any  longer. 
Make  some  arrangements  for  me  to  leave  as  soon 
as  Mrs.  Morton  comes  back.  That  will  be  in  an 
hour.  At  any  risk,  at  all  risks,  I  must  be  carried 
to  my  own  home  in  the  country.  Perhaps  I  did 
shoot  him :  who  the  devil  knows  or  cares !  "  And 
as,  in  his  annoyance,  his  voice  rose  sufficiently  to 
be  heard  by  Gray,  the  latter  broke  in  anew  :  — 

"Well,  sir,  I  am  glad  you  admit  it.     And  my 


60  IN  WAR  TIME. 

little  girl, — who  is  to  take  care  of  her?  I  say," 
he  repeated  sharply,  "  who  is  to  take  care  of  her? 
Not  this  man." 

"  Oh,  she  will  be  looked  after,"  responded  "Wen- 
dell kindly,  desiring  to  soothe  the  patient,  whose 
diseased  fancies  were  evidently  hurting  both  him- 
self and  his  neighbor.  "  Ah,  here  comes  my  sister ! 
Ann,  let  me  speak  to  you  a  moment ; "  and  so  say- 
ing, he  led  her  out  of  the  room,  and  explained  to 

r  that  Captain  Gray  was  very  ill  and  delirious, 
and  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  separate  him 
from  Major  Morton. 

Ann  Wendell  at  once  reentered  the  room,  took 
her  seat  at  the  bedside,  and  sat  fanning  the  poor 
fellow,  while  her  brother  left  them  to  attend  to 
other  duties.  Mrs.  Morton  arrived  soon  after ;  and 
as  Lagrange  agreed  with  his  subordinate  that  it 
would  now  be  best  to  move  her  husband,  the  proper 
arrangements  were  soon  completed. 

As  the  major  was  being  carried  out  of  the  room, 
he  said,  "  Captain  Gray,  I  hope  you  will  soon  get 
well ;  and  meanwhile,  whatever  we  can  do  for  you 
is  at  your  service." 

"  I  sha'n't  get  well,"  returned  Gray.  "  I  am  go- 
ing to  die,  to  die,  and  my  death  is  on  your  head !  " 

Morton  made  no  reply. 

"  Don't  mind  him,"  the  young  surgeon  whispered 
quietly  to  Mrs.  Morton,  who  had  turned,  with  a 
startled  air,  —  "  don't  mind  him ;  he  is  raving." 

"  Poor  fellow,"  she  murmured  softly. 

"I  don't  blame  him,"  cried  Gray,  in  a  high 


IN  WAR  TIME.  51 

shrill  voice,  "but  he  did  it.  And  oh,  my  little 
one,  my  little  one !  Friendless,  friendless !  "  and 
he  sank  back,  faint  and  exhausted,  upon  the  pillow, 
from  which  he  had  risen  with  an  effort  of  frenzied 
strength. 

"You  won't  forget  to  call  to-night?"  said  Mrs. 
Morton  to  Wendell.  "  What  a  strange  delusion  ! 
What  a  painful  scene  !  "  Then  the  nurses  carried 
her  husband  out  of  the  room  and  down -stairs  to 
the  ambulance,  while  Ann  Wendell,  disturbed  and 
pitiful,  sat  fanning  the  fevered  man  who  remained. 
As  she  looked  at  him,  his  face  struck  her  painfully. 
It  was  thin  and  drawn,  beaded  with  sweat,  and 
deeply  flushed. 

"  When  will  my  child  come  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  To-morrow.  I  have  had  a  telegram,  and  I  will 
bring  her  here  at  once.  Yes,  I  will  bring  her ;  now 
don't  talk.  We  will  take  care  of  her  until  some  of 
her  relatives  are  heard  from,  or  she  can  return  to 
school,  till  you  are  well  and  exchanged." 

"  You  promise  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  promise,"  Ann  replied,  hardly  knowing 
what  to  say. 

"  And  that  man,  —  he  could  n't  help  it !  That 's 
war,  that 's  war !  He  shot  me,  you  know.  He 
says  so.  I  saw  him.  You  won't  let  them  have  my 
child,  will  you,  —  now,  will  you  ?  " 

Ann  had  a  pretty  clear  idea  that  nothing  was 
less  likely  than  that  the  stately  dame,  who  overawed 
her  with  easy  graciousness,  would  desire  to  assume 
charge  of  the  little  waif. 


52  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  Make  yourself  easy.     God  will  provide." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,  of  course ;  but  you  will  — 
take  care  —  yes  —  you  will  ?  " 

"  I  will,"  said  Ann,  hardly  clear  as  to  what  she 
was  pledging  herself  to  do,  but  feeling  sure  that 
she  must  say  yes  to  whatever  he  asked,  and  that 
she  was  not  given  time  to  reflect  as  to  what  she 
ought  to  do. 

"  All  right,"  moaned  Gray.  "  Turn  this  pillow, 
please.  Lord,  how  wretched  I  feel !  " 

Ann  did  as  he  desired.  She  had  a  strong  feel- 
ing that  she  ought  to  say  something  to  relieve  him : 
"You  must  not  say  Major  Morton  shot  you.  How 
could  you  know  that  ?  You  must  have  made  him 
feel  horribly.  I  would  n't  say  it  if  I  were  you !  " 

"  But,"  cried  Gray,  seizing  her  wrist,  "  I  know 
it,  and  before  you  came  he  said  it!  He  acknowl- 
edged he  shot  me !  What  was  that  you  said  about 
to-morrow?  To-morrow,  and  to-morrow,  and  to- 
morrow !  Stop,  excuse  me,  Mistress  Wendell,  — 
I  am  not  at  all  clear  in  my  head ;  but  let  him  say 
what  he  likes,  he  shot  me !  Remember  that,  he 
shot  me !  " 

Miss  Wendell  was  deeply  distressed.  She  could 
not  appreciate  the  state  of  mental  disturbance 
which  possessed  the  man,  and  to  her  inexperience  it 
seemed  at  once  improbable  and  yet  possible  that  he 
could  have  been  sure  of  the  hand  which  had  smitten 
him.  It  all  left  her  with  one  of  those  vague  but 
lasting  mental  impressions  which  may  wear  out 
with  time,  or  be  deepened  by  future  circumstance, 


IN  WAR  TIME.  53 

and  which  are,  as  it  were,  memorial  ghosts  that 
trouble  us  despite  our  unbeliefs  in  their  reality. 
For  the  present  she  put  it  aside  ;  but  in  her  simple 
life  it  was  a  great  and  strange  event,  never  pleas- 
ant to  think  or  talk  of.  She  stayed  with  Gray  till 
it  was  quite  late,  and  then  went  home  with  her 
brother,  promising  to  return  the  next  afternoon, 
when  she  hoped  to  be  able  to  bring  the  little  girl. 

The  following  day  she  busied  herself,  as  usual, 
about  the  household  and  among  the  flowers  in  her 
little  garden,  until  the  hour  came  to  meet  the  train, 
which  was,  little  as  she  then  guessed  it,  to  bring 
v/rnto  her  life  new  cares  and  fresh  anxieties.  It  was 
close  to  the  late  twilight  of  summer  when  she  stood 
waiting  at  the  station.  Her  life  had  been,  as  I 
have  said,  simple.  Her  nature  and  her  creed  alike 
taught  her  to  be  eternally  willing  to  do  for  others 
acts  of  kindness ;  indeed,  to  be  ever  ready,  for  these 
had  grown  to  be  habitual,  and  excited  in  her  mind 
no  comment  whatsoever ;  so  that  in  this  sense 
virtue  was  its  own  reward,  in  that  it  made  each 
new  act  of  virtue  easier,  and  so  kept  calm  a  con- 
science which  was  only  too  apt  with  rebuke.  She 
now  stood  silently  watching  the  crowd  of  soldiers 
going  to  the  front,  of  officers  in  varied  uniforms, 
all  the  eager,  hurried  travel  of  ever  anxious  men 
and  women  moving  southward.  At  last  she  saw  a 
conductor  coming  toward  her,  and  guessed  at  once 
that  the  girl  at  his  side  was  the  child  for  whom  she 
had  come. 

"  I  am  Miss  Wendell,  and  I  am  here  to  meet  a 
child  named  Gray." 


54  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  Yes,"  the  conductor  replied,  "  that  is  all  right. 
I  was  to  turn  her  over  to  Miss  Wendell.  Here  is 
the  check  for  her  trunk.  Good-by,  Missy !  "  and 
so  saying  he  dropped  the  child's  hand  and  walked 
away.  The  girl  looked  after  him  with  a  sense  of 
desertion,  and  then  turned  and  faced  Ann  Wendell, 
silent  with  the  shy,  speechless  uneasiness  of  girl- 
hood. 

"You  are  Hester  Gray?"  said  Miss  Wendell. 

"Yes,  ma'am.     Where  is  my  father?" 

"  You  shall  see  him  soon.  Come,  my  dear,  you 
must  be  tired ;  we  won't  talk  now ; "  and  so,  hav- 
ing arranged  for  her  trunk  to  be  sent  to  German- 
town,  Ann  got  into  a  street  car  with  her  charge, 
and  set  out  for  the  hospital. 

Ann  was  acutely  observant  of  but  one  person  in 
her  small  world  —  the  brother  whose  life  had  be- 
come one  with  her  own  ;  and  she  therefore  troubled 
herself  but  little  about  the  child  at  her  side,  save 
to  say  now  and  then  a  kind  word,  or  to  notice  that 
the  dress  of  brown  holland,  though  clean  and  neat, 
showed  signs  of  over  use. 

The  girl  was  perhaps  fifteen  years  old,  but  looked 
singularly  childlike  for  her  age.  She  had  been  sent 
four  years  before,  when  her  mother  died,  to  a  school 
in  New  Jersey,  where,  save  for  one  brief  visit  from 
her  father  before  the  war  broke  out,  she  had  had 
the  usual  school  life  among  a  large  number  of 
girls,  to  whom  was  applied  alike  a  common  system, 
^  which  admitted  of  no  recognition  of  individualities, 
But  this  little  existence,  now  sent  adrift  from  its 


IN   WAR   TIME.  55 

monotonous  colony  of  fellow  polyps  to  float  away 
and  develop  under  novel  circumstances,  was  a  very 
distinct  and  positive  individual  being.  She  sat  be- 
side Ann  Wendell,  stealing  quick  glances  at  her, 
at  her  fellow-passengers,  and  at  the  houses  and 
buildings  they  were  passing;  not  reasoning  about 
them,  but  simply  making  up  the  child's  little  treas- 
ury of  automatically  gathered  memories,  and  feel- 
ing, without  knowing  that  she  felt  it,  the  kindliness 
and  quiet  incuriousness  of  the  woman  beside  her. 
Then,  seeing  a  man  drop  a  letter  into  a  postal  box 
in  the  street,  she  suddenly  remembered  herself,  and 
flushing  said,  — 

"  I  have  a  letter  to  give.  If  father  is  too  sick,  I 
am  to  give  it  to  some  one." 

"  I  will  take  it,"  said  Ann,  and  the  child  pres- 
ently extracted  a  letter,  which  the  careful  school- 
mistress had  pinned  fast  in  her  pocket.  It  was 
addressed  to  "Charles  Gray,  Esq."  "I  will  take 
care  of  it,  my  little  woman." 

The  child  made  some  vague  reflections  on 
her  being  called  a  little  woman,  and  the  train  of 
thought,  brief  as  are  always  the  speculations  of 
childhood,  ended  at  the  door  of  the  great  brick 
hospital.  Then  they  walked  through  the  lounging 
s/crowd  of  invalids  about  the  portal,  past  the  sen- 
tinel, and  up  the  stairs,  until  Ann  knocked  softly 
at  the  sick  man's  door.  It  was  opened  by  a  nurse, 
who  said  in  a  low  voice  that  they  were  to  wait  a 
minute,  until  he  sent  for  the  doctor.  While  they 
lingered,  Ann  heard  the  deep,  snoring  respiration 


56  IN  WAR  TIME. 

of  the  man  within,  and  tightened  her  grasp  on  the 
child's  hand,  knowing  only  too  well  what  the  sound 
meant.  A  moment  later  Wendell  appeared  with 
the  surgeon-in-charge.  The  two  men  said  a  few 
words  apart,  and  then  the  elder  took  the  child's 
hand,  and  sitting  down  on  the  staircase  drew  her 
toward  him. 

"  What  is  your  name,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Hester,  —  Hester  Gray." 

"  How  long  since  you  saw  your  father  ?  " 

"  Ever  so  long,  sir.     I  don't  remember." 

"  Well,  you  know  when  people  are  sick  they  do 

not  look  as  they  do  when  they  are  well,  and  your 

father,  Hester,  is  very  sick ;  so  if  he  is  too  sick  to 

/know  you  are  his   own  little  girl,  you  must  n't  be 

afraid,  will  you?" 

"  No  sir,  I  will  try  not  to  be." 

"  And  don't  cry,"  he  added,  as  he  saw  the  large 
blue  eyes  filling.  Then  he  took  her  tenderly  by 
the  hand,  and  saying  cheerily,  "  Now  come  along ; 
we  will  go  and  see  papa,"  he  led  her  into  the  room, 
followed  by  Ann  and  her  brother.  When  Ann 
saw  the  dying  man's  face,  she  turned,  and  whispered 
to  Wendell,— 

"Oh,  I  wouldn't  have  done  it  at  all!  Why 
should  she  see  him  ?  " 

Wendell  made  no  answer.  He  was  himself  won- 
dering why  this  tender  little  life  should  be  forced 
I/  into  rude  acquaintance  with  death.  The  surgeon 
knew  better ;  knew  full  well,  with  the  wisdom  of 
many  deaths,  what  a  softened  sweetness  this  grim 


IN  WAR    TIME.  57 

memory  would  grow  to  have,  in  years  to  come,  — 
what  a  blank  in  the  life  of  love  its  absence  might 
come  to  be. 

Charles  Gray  was  lost  even  now  to  the  world  of 
loves  and  hates.  Gaunt  with  past  suffering,  his 
cheeks  flushed  with  moving  spaces  of  intense  pur- 
plish-red, he  lay  on  his  back.  His  eyes,  wide 
open,  stared  up  at  the  ceiling  between  moveless 
lids,  while  the  irregularly  heaving  chest  and  the 
dilating  nostrils  told  of  the  closing  struggle  for  the 
breath  which  is  life.  Ann  wiped  from  his  brow 
the  sweat  which  marks  the  earning  of  death  as  of 
bread,  —  the  sign  of  all  great  physical  effort,  — 
and  said  in  a  rising  voice,  — 

"  Here  is  Hester,  Captain  Gray !  Captain  Gray, 
this  is  Hester !  Don't  you  know  her  ?  Your  Hes- 
ter." 

He  made  no  sign  in  reply.  Nature  had  not 
waited  for  man  to  supply  her  anaesthetics,  and  the 
disturbed  chemistries  of  failing  life  were  flooding 
nerve  and  brain  with  potent  sedatives. 

"  Too  late !  "  murmured  Wendell. 

A  slight  convulsion  passed  over  the  features  of 
the  dying  man.  The  child  looked  up  in  curious 
amazement.  Her  little  life  gave  her  no  true  key  to 
the  sorrow  of  the  scene. 

"  Kiss  him,"  said  Ann ;  "  speak  to  him,  Hester. 
Perhaps  he  will  know  you." 

The  child  touched  his  forehead,  recoiled  a  second 
from  the  chill,  sweating  brow,  and  then  kissed  it 
again  and  again. 


58  IN  WAR   TIME. 

"  Speak  to  him,  Hester,  —  try,"  repeated  Ann. 

"Father— father!  "  cried  the  child. 

"  A  little  water,"  said  the  surgeon-in-chief ,  know- 
ing that  to  swallow  sometimes  for  a  moment  awak- 
ens the  slumbering  consciousness. 

The  dying  man  struggled  with  the  spoonful  of 
fluid,  then  swallowed  it  abruptly,  and  moved  his 
lips. 

"  Does  he  say  anything  ?  "  said  Wendell. 

Ann  bent  down,  and  again  wiped  his  face.  This 
time  he  murmured  something,  and  Ann  rose  in- 
stantly, with  a  pale  face. 

"  He  does  n't  know  any  one,"  she  said.  "  Come, 
my  child,  kiss  him  again,  and  we  will  go  out  for  a 
while." 

What  Ann  had  heard  were  broken  words,  sent 
back  to  her  alone  through  the  closing  doors  which 
opened  to  one  world  and  shut  out  another :  "  Shot 
— shot — he  shot  me !  " 

"Come,"  she  repeated  to  the  dazed  and  trem- 
bling girl,  "  the  surgeons  must  be  with  him  alone, 
dear." 

Hester  obeyed  without  a  word,  crying,  she  hardly 
knew  why ;  for  tears  are  the  large  resource  of  nature 
in  most  of  the  incidents  that  startle  or  perplex  the 
emotional  years  of  childhood ;  and  to  be  truthful, 
there  was  more  of  terror  than  of  grief  in  the  scene 
for  a  child  to  whom  years  of  absence  and  silence 
had  made  all  memories  of  home  and  father  some- 
what hazy  and  indistinct. 

"  I  will  take  her  away  with  me  at  once,"  said 


IN   WAR  TIME.  59 

Ann  to  Dr.  Lagrange.  "It  will  be  no  good  for 
her  to  see  him  again." 

"  You  will  do  the  kindest  thing  for  her,  I  think," 
he  answered ;  and  with  this,  hand  in  hand  with  the 
child,  who  pressed  close  to  her  side,  Ann  went  out 
into  the  street,  thoughtful  and  dismayed.  She  had 
seen  hundreds  of  wounded  men,  in  her  constant 
hospital  visits,  but  no  one  knew  who  had  hurt 
them ;  so  that  in  her  eyes  this  single  definite  fact 
of  individual  war  seemed  like  murder.  The  whole 
matter  of  war,  indeed,  was  horrible  to  Ann.  She 
somehow  saw  God  in  its  larger  results,  but  not  in 
its  tragedies.  How  could  God  mean  one  man  to 
slay  another !  There,  it  is  true,  were  the  Amalek- 
ites  and  the  Jebusites ;  but  as  to  them,  the  command 
to  destroy  had  been  sufficiently  distinct.  Still,  this 
present  war  was  a  just  war,  in  Ann's  eyes,  and  her 
brother  had  no  doubts  at  all,  which  was  sometimes 
a  comfort  to  her,  and  would  have  been  a  larger  one 
had  Wendell  shared  her  own  religious  creed,  which 
he  certainly  did  not,  being  vaguely  inclined  at 
times  to  a  half  acceptance  of  the  mysticism  of 
Swedenborg.  His  belief  in  the  competency  of  his 
own  intellect  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  possess 
some  views  on  matters  of  religious  beliefs,  but  so 
far  he  had  never  got  much  beyond  the  easy  goal 
of  destructive  criticism. 

When  the  two  doctors  began  to  descend  the  stairs 
from  the  dying  man's  room,  the  elder  said,  "  Mrs. 
Morton  has  written  to  me  to  say  that  she  will  be 
glad  to  meet  any  expense  you  may  be  put  to  about 
this  child." 


60  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  She  is  a  kind  and  generous  woman,  I  should 
think,"  replied  Wendell. 

"  Well,  yes,  in  a  cool,  quiet  way  she  is.  I  like 
her  myself,  and  you  will  find,  if  you  don't  cross 
her  views,  that  she  will  be  a  good  friend.  But  that 
is  her  trouble.  She  respects  none  but  manly,  reso- 
lute men,  and  yet  she  dearly  loves  her  own  way. 
Money  is  a  very  little  thing  to  her,  and  to  Morton 
~-y  also.  What  a  rapid  case  of  pyaemia  !  I  wish  one 
understood  it  better,  or  that  somebody  could  take 
it  up  and  work  at  it.  We  have  plenty  of  material. 
Why  could  not  you  try  your  hand  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  it,"  said  Wendell. 

In  fact,  he  was  always  planning  some  valuable 
research,  but  was  never  energetic  enough  to  over- 
come the  incessant  obstacles  which  make  research 
so  difficult. 

"  We  will  talk  it  over,"  said  Dr.  Lagrange. 
"  What  do  you  think  of  Jones,  in  Number  Five  ? 
v/  He  seems  to  me  a  malingerer,  and  a  poor  actor  at 
that." 

And  so  the  talk  went  from  the  frequent  tragedy 
of  death  to  its  causes,  and  thence  to  the  hospital 
work  and  discipline ;  the  scamps  who  were  feigning 
v/  illness ;  and  who  were  well  enough  to  go  to  the 
front,  who  must  be  discharged,  who  be  turned  over 
to  the  provost  marshal. 

The  contrasts  in  a  doctor's  life  are  always  strik- 
ing, and  never  more  so  than  in  the  splendid  and 
terrible  years  of  our  great  war,  which  added  a  long 
list  of  novel  duties  and  a  training  foreign  to  his 


IN   WAR  TIME.  61 

ordinary  existence.  These  two  men,  coming  from 
the  every-day  calamity  of  a  death-bed,  instantly  set 
aside  the  emotions  and  impressions,  which  no  repe- 
tition ever  quite  destroys  for  the  most  callous  doc- 
tor, and  began  to  discuss  the  scientific  aspects  of 
the  disease  with  which  they  had  been  so  vainly 
I  battling.  They  both  felt  more  or  less  the  sense  of 
defeat  which  waits  for  the  physician  as  he  leaves 
the  room  of  the  dying,  —  a  keener  discomfort  than 
the  unthinking  public  can  well  imagine  ;  but  both 
were  able  to  lose  it  in  their  interest  in  that  which 
caused  it. 


Y. 

SEVERAL  days  had  elapsed  since  the  rebel  cap- 
tain lay  dying  in  the  hospital.  He  had  been  buried 
quietly,  with  but  two  mourners,  Miss  Wendell  and 
his  child,  and  the  world  of  events  had  gone  by  and 
left  him.  The  child  remained  for  the  present  at 
Dr.  Wendell's  ;  and  now  it  was  night  in  his  house, 
and  Hester  was  safe  in  bed  in  Ann's  room,  while 
the  brother  and  sister  sat  in  the  little  library.  The 
last  few  days  had  been  full  of  unusual  incidents, 
which  were  to  be  more  fertile  in  consequences  than 
they  could  guess ;  and  the  woman  had  been  busy, 
and  the  man,  for  once,  hard-worked.  The  hospital 
was  full  to  overflowing,  and  the  largest  affair  in  his 
life  as  a  physician  had  come  to  him  in  the  shape  of 
a  request  to  take  charge  of  Major  Morton,  whose 
country  home  lay  within  a  mile  or  two  of  the  doc- 
tor's house.  Altogether  Wendell  was  pleased  and 
busy.  The  new  call  flattered  and  interested  him, 
and  was  professionally  a  distinct  lift.  Ann  herself 
regarded  the  matter  as  proof  of  her  brother's  fit- 
ness, and,  in  her  calm  New  England  way,  as  a  sub- 
stantial gain,  to  be  dealt  with  as  a  new  duty,  and 
used  as  a  means  to  get  on  honestly.  For  Wendell 
it  was  more  complicated.  He  felt,  or  believed  him- 
self,  equal  to  any  medical  call  upon  his  intelligence, 


IN  WAR  TIME.  63 

—  a  feeling  common  enough  among  younger  men, 
and  apt  to  fade  as  years  go  on.  But,  besides  all 
this,  it  had  for  him  another  value,  which  would  have 
amazed  his  sister,  could  she  have  known  it.  He 
was  naturally  a  refined  and  also  a  very  sensitive 
man,  cultivated,  not  deeply,  but  over  much  surface, 
and  he  felt  the  want  of  such  appreciative  and  re- 
sponsive companionship  as  makes  talk  about  certain 
things  possible.  He  liked  sympathy,  and,  as  is 
common  with  such  natures,  women  pleased  him 
more  than  men ;  nor,  indeed,  was  he  well  fitted,  on 
account  of  his  self-regard  and  his  girl-like  tender- 
ness, to  contract  strong  and  virile  attachments  to 
men.  In  the  Morton  household  and  its  surround- 
ing circles  of  friends  and  relatives,  he  felt  himself 
in  an  air  which  he  breathed,  if  not  at  once  with 
ease,  certainly  with  pleasure.  The  poor  whom  he 
attended  he  did  not  like,  because  their  houses  were 
often  uncleanly  and  their  ways  rough.  Indeed,  he 
disliked  all  that  belonged  to  poverty,  as  he  did 
other  unpleasing  things.  He  saw  this  class  of  pa- 
tients knowing  that  he  must,  but  made  brief  visits, 
and  found  true  interest  impossible  where  his  senses 
and  taste  were  steadily  in  revolt. 

Perhaps  as  a  doctor  of  the  rich  alone  he  might 
have  done  better.  It  seems  probable  that  he  should 
never  have  been  a  doctor  at  all. 

What  he  had  felt  when  he  first  saw  Mrs.  Mor- 
ton he  felt  more  and  more  as  he  came  to  be  socially 
at  ease  in  her  circle.  The  quiet  ways,  the  calm 
readiness  for  all  social  accidents,  and  the  habitual 


64  IN  WAR  TIME. 

automatic  attention  to  the  wants  and  feelings  and 
even  the  prejudices  of  others  struck  him  as  com- 
fortable ;  and  without  distinct  analysis  of  the  cause, 
he  came  to  recognize  that  he  was  thrown  among 
people  who,  for  some  reason,  were  acceptable  to 
him,  and  among  whom  it  would  be  very  agreeable 
to  pursue  his  profession.  Had  he  heard  the  con- 
versation which  led  finally  to  his  being  asked  to 
see  Major  Morton,  he  would  have  been  less  satis- 
fied; but  perhaps,  could  we  hear  all  that  is  said 
behind  our  backs,  existence  would  be  nearly  im- 
possible except  for  the  few,  who  would  then  make 
what  was  left  of  it  intolerable. 

Mrs.  Morton  had  said  a  few  words  to  Dr.  Wen- 
dell as  to  her  desire  that  he  should  see  her  husband 
at  his  country  home ;  but  she  had  by  no  means 
looked  on  this  as  a  finality,  and  indeed  did  not 
decide  the  matter  until,  in  prospect  of  the  major's 
removal,  she  had  a  further  talk  with  her  old  ac- 
quaintance, Dr.  Lagrange. 

She  saw  him  at  the  hospital,  and  was  accompa- 
^/  nied  by  a  friend,  who  was  a  somewhat  inconstant 
companion,  but  who  generally  came  usefully  to  the 
front,  as  was  said  in  war  slang,  when  no  one  ex- 
pected to  see  her,  or  when  there  was  some  real  need 
for  her  presence  ;  "  not,"  as  she  remarked,  "  that  I 
am  of  the  slightest  value,  my  dear,  but  one's  friends 
become  so  interesting  when  they  are  in  trouble." 

Mrs.  Morton  drove  with  Mrs.  Westerley  to  the 
hospital ;  and  when  the  second  lady's  pleasant  face 
appeared  at  the  window  of  her  friend's  light  Ger- 


IN  WAR  TIME.  65 

mantown  wagon,  with  its  well-matched  pair  of 
Morgans,  three  men  in  uniform,  lounging  at  the 
gate,  rushed  forward  in  a  competitive  effort  to  open 
the  carriage  door,  and  to  anticipate  the  tardy  de- 
scent of  the  footman. 

"  Do  you  go  at  all  to  the  hospitals  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
Westerley,  as  they  entered  the  doorway.  "  I  have 
been  absent  so  much  that  I  have  scarcely  seen  you 
this  summer,  and  I  have  n't  caught  up  to  your  pres- 
ent ways." 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Morton,  "  the  Sanitary  is  all  I 
can  attend  to ;  and  what  with  Mrs.  Grace  and  one 
or  two  other  obstructives,  it  promises  to  be  more 
than  any  one  person  ought  to  be  called  upon  to 
manage.  As  long  as  it  meant  havelocks  and 
tooth-brushes  and  pocket-handkerchiefs,  it  was 
dolls'  play ;  but  now  it  is  very  serious  business,  as 
you  know,  dear." 

"For  my  part,  I  like  the  hospital  work  best. 
But  I  never  was  here  before.  How  neat  it  is ! 
What  clever  housekeepers  these  men  make  !  They 
told  me  at  Chestnut  Hill  hospital  that  they  made 
quite  a  good  income  out  of  the  egg-shells  and  coffee- 
grounds." 

At  this  moment  an  orderly  approached,  touched 
his  cap,  and  asked  if  they  would  wait  in  the  sur- 
geon's office.  Dr.  Lagrange  would  be  at  leisure  in 
a  few  minutes. 

"  Might  we  stand  at  the  ward  door  and  hear  the 
band  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Westerley. 

"  Of  course,  ma'am,"  replied  the  orderly.    "  The 


66  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Burgeon's  visit  is  over."  Accordingly  they  lingered, 
looking  across  the  vast  ward,  once  an  armory  drill- 
room,  while  from  the  lower  floor  the  strains  of  one 
well-known  air  after  another  floated  upward,  and 
in  far  corners  here  and  there  roused  memorial 
echoes  in  bosoms  weary  of  war  and  camps.  Even- 
ing band  play  was  always  a  cheerful  interruption 
of  the  grim  monotony  of  sick  life,  and  when,  pres- 
ently, with  the  neutral  disregard  of  the  raging  con- 
test far  away  found  in  hospitals,  the  band  struck 
up  "Maryland,  My  Maryland,"  the  rebel  wounded 
roused  themselves,  and  some  bluecoat  cried  out 
cheerfully  to  a  graycoat  near  by,  "  Good  for  you, 
Johnny  Reb  !  "  "  Ah,"  said  Alice  Westerley,  "  if 
we  women  kept  hospitals,  there  would  be  no  rebel 
music,  my  dear.  We  are  too  good  haters." 

"And  there  should  be  none,"  returned  Mrs. 
Morton,  gravely. 

"  I  thought  as  much,"  said  her  companion.  "  But 
surely  it  is  well.  Perhaps  we  had  better  not  wait 
any  longer.  How  peaceful  it  is !  I  could  stay  an 
hour." 

Then  they  turned  away,  followed  by  pleased 
glances  from  beds  near  by,  and  were  presently 
standing  in  the  surgeon's  official  waiting-room,  the 
furnishings  of  which  amused  Mrs.  Westerley  im- 
mensely, as  in  fact  few  things  failed  to  interest  her, 
from  an  animal  to  a  man. 

"What  is  this?"  she  asked.  "It  looks  like  a 
diagram  of  a  crab.  Bless  me,  it  is  the  plan  of  the 
Stump  hospital !  What  in  the  world,  Helen  Mor- 


IN  WAR  TIME.  67 

ton,  is  a  Stump  hospital?  And  here  —  do  come 
here !  This  is  a  diet  table.  *  Ordinary  diet,'  '  Ex- 
tra diet,'  *  Number  four  diet ! '  I  think  I  shall  in- 
troduce the  system  at  home.  And  did  you  ever 
see  such  neatness  ?  Look  at  the  table  ;  really,  the 
man  has  three  pen-wipers !  " 

At  this  moment  Dr.  Lagrange  entered. 

"  We  were  admiring  the  perfect  order  of  your 
arrangements,"  said  Mrs.  Morton. 

"  It  is  simply  a  necessity,  in  a  life  like  mine.  I 
am  glad  you  like  it." 

"  But  you  must  like  it  yourself." 

"  Yes,  I  do,  and  I  wish  others  thought  as  much 
of  it  as  I  do.  It  would  make  life  easier.  Now  I 
have  the  utmost  trouble  about  letters  ;  people  write 
them  on  such  different  sizes  of  paper,  and  when 
you  come  to  file  them  they  don't  match.  In  the 
hospital  and  in  the  service  generally  we  have  the 
same  difficulty." 

"I  see,"  replied  Mrs.  Morton,  "how  very  vexa- 
tious it  must  be." 

"  One  has  a  like  annoyance  about  people's  opin- 
ions," remarked  Mrs.  Westerley,  with  entire  grav- 
ity. 

The  surgeon  looked  puzzled. 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  he  said,  in  some  doubt,  being 
a  slow  thinker,  and  not  having  time  to  consider  the 
matter. 

Mrs.  Morton  availed  herself  of  his  hesitation  to 
say,  "  I  came  to  consult  you  as  to  whether  you  still 
think  it  will  be  wise  for  me  to  ask  Dr.  Wendell  to 


68  IN  WAR  TIME. 

see  Mr.  Morton.  There  seem  to  be  reasons  for  and 
against  it.  What  do  you  think,  doctor  ?  " 

"  Hum !  "  replied  Lagrange ;  "  on  the  whole  I 
should  ask  him.  He  knows  the  case  and  its  needs. 
He  lives  within  call,  and  I  suspect  will  feel  the 
summons  so  flattering  that  you  will  get  from  him 
—  indeed  can  ask  from  him  —  more  frequent  visits 
than  an  older  man  would  be  apt  to  pay.  I  think  I 
would  put  the  case  in  his  hands ;  and,  if  agreeable 
to  you,  I  will  myself  see  my  old  friend,  now  and 
then." 

"  Oh,  that  would  remove  all  my  objections." 

"  Wendell  is  older  than  he  looks,"  said  Lagrange. 

"  Of  course,"  returned  Mrs.  Morton,  "  it  is  very, 
very  absurd ;  but  I  have  always  had  doctors  whom 
I  knew,  and  who  have  had  a  certain  knowledge  of 
one's  life  and  ways.  You  understand  me,  doctor?" 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  I  do.  Wendell  has  been  brought 
up  among  plain  New  England  people." 

"  But  he  can't  put  his  manners  into  his  pills,  you 
know,"  said  Mrs.  Westerley. 

"  It  is  his  manner  more  than  his  manners,"  ex- 
plained her  friend. 

"  Oh,  it 's  the  singular,  not  the  plural,  you  object 
to ! "  laughed  Mrs.  Westerley.  "  For  my  part,  I 
would  take  him  and  educate  him.  I  think,  if  I 
were  ill,  —  which  I  never  am,  —  I  would  like  the 
task  myself.  He  is  very  good  looking,  and  if  he 
dressed  well  would  be  presentable  enough." 

Lagrange  smiled  approval.  "I  think  I  would 
risk  it ; "  and  so  then  and  there  it  was  settled  that 


IN  WAR  TIME.  69 

Dr.  Wendell  should  become  the  medical  adviser  of 
Major  Morton. 

Meanwhile  their  talk  had  been  interrupted  a  half 
dozen  times  by  reports  of  contract  physicians,  order- 
lies, provost-marshals,  messengers,  and  the  officer 
of  the  day.  Lagrange  disposed  of  each  in  turn 
with  careful  precision  of  well-considered  reply. 

"Do  you  never  lose  your  temper?"  said  Mrs. 
Westerley  to  him,  as  they  descended  the  stairs  to- 
gether. "  You  are  a  first-rate  housekeeper.  But 
pray  tell  me,  what  is  the  Stump  hospital  ?  It  must 
be  a  new  one." 

"  It  is  for  men  who  have  lost  limbs,"  he  replied. 

"How  droll!  "  said  Mrs.  Westerley.  "Where  do 
they  send  generals  who  lose  their  heads  ?  " 

"  How  absurd  you  are,  Alice  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Morton. 

The  surgeon  did  not  smile,  and  was  still  curi- 
ously examining  the  question  when  they  left  him  at 
the  hospital  gate.  He  had  himself  what  men  call 
dry  humor,  and  like  persons  so  endowed  was  often 
slow  in  giving  a  jest  the  hospitality  of  mirthful  ac- 
ceptance. Perhaps  it  had  to  undergo  a  preliminary 
process  of  assimilative  desiccation.  V 

A  few  days  afterwards,  as  I  have  said,  in  the 
late  evening,  Dr.  Wendell  sat  at  home  with  his  sis- 
ter. He  was  happy,  as  usual  in  an  hour  of  leisure, 
over  a  family  circle  of  rotiferas,  which  he  had  found 
on  the  shore  of  Fisher's  mill-pond,  and  he  only 
looked  up  now  and  then  to  reply  to  Ann,  or  mur- 
mur some  result  of  his  observations  without  taking 


70  IN  WAR  TIME. 

his  eye  from  the  glass.  Ann  Wendell  sat,  mean- 
while, busily  sewing. 

"We  have  a  great  many  things  to  talk  over, 
brother,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  I  know.     Go  on ;  I  can  hear  you." 

"  But  I  wish  you  would  listen,  really." 

"Oh,  I'll  listen!  What  is  it?  When  I  stir 
these  fellows  up  they  look  very  much  as  we  must 
have  looked  to  some  higher  intelligence  at  the  be- 
ginning of  this  war.  It 's  almost  laughable !  Hum ! 
what  a  curious  representation  of  threes  in  the  cilia, 
and  the  same  in  the  allied  species!  Certainly, 
Swedenborg  was  right  about  the  mystical  value  of 
that  numeral." 

A  shade  of  vexation  crossed  Ann's  face.  She 
altogether  disapproved  of  Swedenborg  and  the  New 
Jerusalem  and  all  mystical  numbers  whatsoever. 
She  said  abruptly,  "I  think  that  girl  up-stairs  is 
more  important." 

"  Yes,  relatively,  my  dear." 

"  What  can  we  do  with  her  ?  The  school-mistress 
says  in  her  letter  that  she  has  not  been  paid  for  a 
year,  and  cannot  take  the  child  back.  No  one  in 
the  South  will  claim  her.  She  is  on  our  hands,  so 
far  as  I  can  see  it.  Who  is  to  support  her,  I  would 
just  like  to  know  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Morton,"  replied  Wendell,  "  says  "  — 

"  '  Says '  —  yes,  I  know ;  but  do  you  suppose  it 
will  last  ?  It 's  not  reasonable  to  think  it  will  last." 

"  Oh,  well,  we  '11  just  keep  her,  and  see.  She 
is  a  nice  child.  Did  you  notice  how  interested 


72V  WAR  TIME.  71 

she  was  about  that  emperor  moth  I  caught  last 
night?" 

"'Keep  her!'  I  suppose  we  must.  We  can't 
turn  her  out  into  the  street,  or  send  her  to  the  alms- 
house." 

"  Then  why,  my  dear  Ann,  should  we  discuss  it  ? 
Upon  my  word,  there  's  a  queer  rotifer.  I  don't 
think  I  ever  saw  it  before." 

Ann  sighed.  "  You  won't  think  it  worth  while, 
or  right,  under  the  circumstances,  to  put  the  child 
in  black?  It  is  only  an  added  expense." 

"  Do  just  what  you  like,  Ann." 

Ann's  needle  flew  nervously,  and  a  little  faster, 
until  it  broke,  and  there  was  a  moment's  pause 
while  she  sought  and  threaded  another,  when,  wise 
with  woman's  wisdom,  she  changed  the  talk. 

"  What  did  her  father  die  of,  brother  ?  " 

"  Pyaemia,  we  call  it." 

"  There  was  a  post  mortem,  was  n't  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  it  did  not  change  the  diagnosis.  And 
oh,  by  the  bye,"  he  added,  with  sudden  animation, 
"  such  a  droll  thing !  During  the  examination, 
yesterday,  I  found  the  ball.  When  Major  Morton 
happened  to  speak  of  Gray's  death,  I  mentioned  it 
casually,  you  know,  thinking  he  might  feel  an  in- 
terest. When  I  did  so,  he  asked  if  it  was  a  minie*. 
I  said  No ;  a  pistol  ball." 

Ann  looked  up,  startled.     "  A  what  ?  "  she  said. 

"  A  Colt,  No.  6.  I  really  begin  to  think  Mor- 
ton was  troubled  about  what  that  poor  fellow  said 
in  his  wanderings,  because  he  remarked  to  me  how 


72  IN   WAR  TIME. 

odd  it  was  that  it  should  turn  out  to  be  a  pistol 
ball." 

"  Do  you  think  he  really  shot  him  ?  " 

"  Stuff,  Ann !  The  notion  was  simply  ridicu- 
lous !  But  suppose,  for  a  moment,  that  Morton 
had  shot  him.  It  was  his  duty.  It  was  what  he 
was  there  for." 

"  I  would  n't  like  to  think  it." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not.  No  woman  would.  Just 
sharpen  my  pencil.  I  must  draw  this  fellow  while 
he  is  so  lively.  How  these  vibrios  bother  one  !  " 

Then  Ann,  having  done  as  he  desired,  rose,  and, 
putting  aside  her  work,  said,  "  Good-night,  brother. 
I  am  sorry  to  trouble  you  about  the  child,  but  how 
can  I  help  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right,"  he  returned.  "  The  thing 
settles  itself.  We  must  wait." 

.  /  In  fact,  waiting  was  a  great  resource  in  Wen- 
dell's life ;  nor,  in  this  case,  did  Ann's  homely  sense 
help  her  to  any  more  acceptable  solution. 

"  Well,  good-night,  brother.  I  am  tired,  —  tired 
all  over." 

WendeU  looked  up  at  her.  "  Yes,  I  was  afraid 
you  were  doing  too  much.  Can't  you  keep  a  little 
more  quiet  ?  There  is  no  need  for  you  to  go  to  the 
hospitals.  You  look  run  down." 

"  I  don't  know.  I  'm  more  weary  than  tired ; 
and  I  miss  the  sea,  and  the  old  home,  and  —  and 
—  Ezra  —  the  chickens  —  and  at  night  I  want  to 
hear  the  rote  of  the  water  on  the  beach." 

"  We  might  manage  a  little  visit  up  there,  when 
Major  Morton  gets  better." 


IN  WAR  TIME.  78 

"  I  don't  think  we  could  afford  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  '11  manage.  Good-night.  Now 
don't  worry  yourself,"  and  he  kissed  her  kindly. 
"  Good-night,  again." 

There  was  on  Ann  Wendell's  mind  another  and 
a  graver  subject.  She  would  have  liked  to  speak 
out  her  regret  that  no  minister  had  seen  the  sick 
soldier  before  he  died,  but  she  knew  that  on  all 
such  matters  it  was  useless  to  look  for  sympathy 
from  Wendell.  She  was  firmly  anchored,  and  he 
was  carelessly  adrift  as  to  all  spiritual  beliefs. 


VL 

WENDELL  was  about  thirty  when  he  came  to 
Gennantown,  and  his  years  and  some  previous  ex- 
perience had  made  his  way  easier  than  is  usual  with 
new-comers ;  while  at  the  same  time  his  compara- 
tive maturity  rendered  the  up-hill  toil  among  the 
lower  social  classes  difficult  to  bear.  He  had  once 
before  gone  through  the  same  sharp  test  of  charac- 
ter, —  the  test  which  makes  or  mars,  degrades  or 
ennobles,  every  physician  in  degrees  which  are  de- 
termined by  the  nature  of  the  moral  capital  with 
which  he  starts,  and  also  more  or  less  by  the  intel- 
lectual interest  with  which  he  regards  his  profes- 
sion. 

As  to  this  alone,  Wendell  was  more  fortunate 
than  many  others.  His  work  attracted  him,  but 
not  continuously ;  and,  as  I  have  said,  the  contact 
which  he  began  to  have  with  the  refined  classes 
made  him  more  comfortable  in  his  circumstances, 
and  better  pleased  with  himself  and  his  surround- 
ings. Thus  far  he  had  cared  little  about  children, 
save  in  a  mildly  sentimental  way.  They  exacted 
sacrifices,  and  as  a  rule  did  not  seem  to  give  much 
in  return.  His  own  unusual  culture  lifted  him  so 
much  above  the  range  of  the  somewhat  hard,  prac- 
tically educated  school-mistresses  of  his  New  Eng- 


IN  WAR  TIME.  75 

land  home  that  he  had  found  in  the  women  he 
had  known  little  that  was  attractive,  and  had  been 
merely  repelled  by  their  business-like,  over-active 
conscientiousness.  Now,  with  the  prolonged  stay  of 
Hester  Gray  under  his  roof,  and  the  novel  world 
opened  to  him  through  the  Mortons,  an  unread 
leaf  of  the  life  book  was  turned  over  before  him, 
and  pleasant  enough  he  found  it. 

The  child  had  few  memories  of  home  or  family, 
and  in  childhood  the  wounds  of  grief  or  losses  heal 
as  readily  as  do  those  of  the  physical  frame.  Very 
soon  the  rather  monotonous  school-days  and  the 
sudden  and  strange  hospital  scenes  faded,  along  with 
the  shyness  born  of  contact  with  strangers.  Then 
the  little  bud  of  active,  alert,  maidenly  life  began 
to  put  forth  rosy  petals  with  modest  coyness,  one  by 
one,  and  to  take  with  instinctive  eagerness  delight 
in  life. 

To  his  surprise,  Wendell  became  gradually  inter- 
ested in  the  girl,  while  to  his  sister  she  was  a  con- 
stant and  often  a  bewildering  phenomenon.  Never- 
theless, Ann  looked  carefully  after  her  dress  and 
food,  and  soon  found  it  not  unpleasant  to  resume, 
with  an  apt  and  clever  pupil,  her  old  work  of 
teaching ;  so  that  the  new  charge  was  in  no  way  a 
weight  or  a  cause  of  anxiety  to  Wendell.  Like 
most  men  of  his  type,  he  got  at  first  a  mere  senti- 
mental pleasure  out  of  the  child,  and  either  shirked 
all  care  for  her,  or  gave  her  mere  material  life  no 
thought  whatsoever. 

The  last  days  of  October  had  come,  and  one  af- 


76  IN  WAR  TIME. 

ternoon,  as  was  now  quite  often  the  case,  Dr.  Wen- 
dell called  cheerfully  for  Hester.  Ann  appeared  at 
the  head  of  the  stairs.  "  She  has  yet  an  hour  to 
finish  her  lessons.  I  would  n't  take  her  away  from 
them,"  she  said.  "  It  is  so  difficult  to  form  regu- 
lar habits,  if  you  always  insist  on  her  going  to  walk 
just  when  it  is  most  inconvenient.  I  can't  give  her 
the  time  in  the  morning,  because  of  the  house,  and 
the  afternoons  you  are  all  the  time  spoiling." 

"  I  am  not  always  insisting,  Ann.  I  want  her  to 
see  the  Mortons  as  often  as  possible.  It  is  an  ex- 
cellent lesson  for  any  girl  to  see  such  a  woman  as 
Mrs.  Morton." 

"  Don't  talk  so  loud  ;  she  will  hear  you,"  replied 
his  sister,  descending  the  stairs  half-way.  "  I  am 
not  sure  that  a  poor  orphan  like  Hester  is  at  all  the 
better  for  such  folks.  It  may  not  do  much  harm 
now,  but  when  she  gets  older  she  will  see  a  great 
many  "  — 

"  Oh,  yes,  my  dear  sister,"  he  said,  interrupting 
her,  "  perhaps  so,  perhaps  not !  All  questions  have 
two  sides.  I  must  have  her  to-day,  anyhow." 

Had  Ann  persisted,  he  would  have  yielded,  as 
all  but  merely  brutal  men  do  yield  to  gently  urgent 
women  in  their  own  homes ;  but  it  was  not  in  Ann 
to  deny  her  brother  any  pleasure. 

"  Well,  this  once,"  she  said  ;  and  so  Hester,  joy- 
ous as  a  bird  at  the  relief  from  confinement,  was 
presently  at  the  doctor's  side,  in  the  street. 

These  afternoon  walks  had  become  more  and 
more  frequent,  as  the  summer  waned  and  the  tern. 


IN   WAR  TIME.  77 

pered  heats  of  September  prevailed.  It  was  still 
needful  for  Wendell  to  visit  Major  Morton  twice  a 
day,  and  whenever  his  duties  permitted  escape  from 
the  afternoon  round  at  the  hospital  he  was  apt  to 
secure  Hester  as  his  companion,  and  start  early 
enough  to  allow  of  a  rambling  walk,  ending  in  a 
call  on  his  patient. 

The  question  of  a  horse  and  carriage  had  become 
a  subject  of  discussion  between  the  brother  and  sis- 
ter ;  but  despite  some  need  for  them,  too  much  im- 
mediate expenditure  was  involved  for  more  than 
mere  thought  at  present,  and  the  Mortons  were  as 
yet  the  only  patients  at  any  distance.  These  walks 
at  this  pleasant  season  were  to  Wendell  a  great 
delight,  and  the  intelligent  little  companion,  so 
strangely  cast  into  his  life,  made  them  a  yet  more 
agreeable  and  varied  source  of  happiness. 

Far  up  the  main  street  the  sunlight  shone  on  the 
gray  and  dusty  turnpike,  and  lit  the  maples,  aglow 
with  red  and  gold,  and  caressed  the  mottled  boles 
of  the  few  stately  buttonwoods,  still  erect  in  front 
of  some  grave-looking  houses  with  Doric  portals 
and  green  window  blinds,  standing  back  from  the 
street,  as  if  shunning  the  common  line  of  lesser 
stone  dwellings,  the  gray  fronts  of  which  were  half 
covered  to  their  hipped  roofs  with  the  gorgeous  au- 
tumn blazonry  of  the  Virginia  creeper.  At  last, 
with  the  child  at  his  side,  he  turned  into  School 
Lane,  where  he  lingered  a  moment  to  show  her  the 
old  schoolhouse,  with  the  royal  crown  still  shining 
on  its  little  spire ;  and  so  along  past  modern  villas 


78  IN  WAR  TIME. 

to  the  Township  Line  road,  where,  turning  to  the 
right,  down  the  hill,  they  soon  found  their  way  into 
the  wooded  valley  of  the  Wissahickon.  At  the 
little  old  covered  crossing,  long  known  as  the  Red 
Bridge,  they  passed  over  the  brown,  still  stream. 

"  And  now  for  a  scramble,  Hester,"  he  exclaimed, 
and  led  the  way  up  a  shady  hill,  taking  a  short 
woodland  path  to  Morton's  house,  which  stood  on  a 
bluff  looking  down  on  a  long  reach  of  quiet  water 
overhung  by  trees.  A  slight  breeze  was  stirring  the 
hazy  atmosphere  of  the  October  woods,  and  the  air 
was  full  of  leaves,  red  and  brown  and  yellow,  saun- 
tering lazily  downward  to  help  make  up  the  brown 
gaps  in  the  rustling  carpet  of  red  and  gold.  It  was 
alike  new  and  delightful  to  the  bright  little  maid, 
this  gorgeous  mask  of  autumn.  Wendell  went 
along  supremely  happy,  all  his  sensuous  being  alive 
to  the  color  of  the  leaves,  the  plumed  golden-rods, 
the  autumn  primrose,  and  the  cool  woodland  odors. 

"  See,  dear,"  he  said :  "  this  is  the  sumach,  and 
it  turns  crimson ;  and  that  is  the  gum-tree,  always 
first  to  get  red,  and  now  nearly  all  its  beauties  are 
gone.  And  aren't  the  ferns  a  nice  brown?  Let 
us  get  all  the  colors,  and  see  how  many  we  can  find. 
Look  at  this  sugar  maple :  the  leaves  are  red  and 
bordered  with  yellow.  And  here  on  the  wood 
verge,"  he  added,  halting, "  I  found  some  aphides 
yesterday.  They  are  rather  late.  Oh,  here  they 
are !  Do  you  know,  they  are  the  cows  which  the 
ants  keep ; "  and  he  told  her  all  the  queer  story  of 
the  ants'  domestic  economy,  while  the  little  fellows 


IN  WAR  TIME.  79 

made  incomprehensibly  tortuous  journeys,  vast  to 
them  as  that  of  Columbus. 

Meanwhile,  the  child  listened  with  rapt  atten- 
tion, gathering  the  leaves  in  her  hands,  and  pres- 
ently she  flitted  away  in  chase  of  a  splendid  moth, 
which  she  stored  in  her  handkerchief,  gathered  into 
a  bag,  where  it  found  itself  in  queer  company  with 
a  beetle  or  two,  and  a  salamander  captured  in  a  rill 
which  crossed  the  path. 

"Won't  the  long  red  thing  get  hurt?"  asked 
the  child.  "  Won't  the  beetle  eat  him  ?  " 

"No ;  if  you  even  cut  off  his  tail,  it  would  grow 
again." 

"But  his  legs?" 

"If  he  were  a  crab,  even  his  legs  would  grow 
again." 

"But  would  mine?" 

"  No,  I  rather  think  not." 

"  Why  would  n't  they  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Oh ! "  The  child  was  silent.  It  seemed  to  her 
strange  that  there  should  be  anything  that  he  did 
not  know. 

"  Is  n't  it  getting  late  ?  "  she  then  said. 

"Bless  me, — yes!"  cried  Wendell.  "Come 
along.  It  is  nearly  six,  and  I  have  to  meet  Dr. 
Lagrange.  How  came  you  to  think  it  was  late?" 

"  Miss  Ann  said  I  was  to  remind  you ;  and  I  re- 
membered, didn't  I?"  she  added,  with  a  quaint 
little  triumphant  sense  of  having  fulfilled  her  small 
duty. 


80  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  Women  are  queer  things,"  murmured  Wen- 
dell ;  "  big  and  little,  they  are  queer !  " 

The  girl  overheard  him. 

"  What  is  queer,  sir  ?     Am  I  queer  ?  " 

"No,"  he  cried,  "you  are  only  nice,"  and  he 
kissed  the  attentive,  earnest  face  looking  up  at 
him.  His  own  very  natural  act  gave  him  a  moment's 
shock  of  surprise.  It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had 
thus  caressed  her,  and  the  small  personage  was 
somehow  pleased ;  but  she  still  recalled  her  office, 
and  said,  "  We  must  hurry,  or  we  '11  be  so  late." 

"Yes,  come  along,"  he  replied.  "Forward 
march." 

By  and  by  they  came  out  on  the  crest  of  the  hill, 
and  looked  back  on  the  wonder  of  the  autumn 
woods. 

He  paused  again  in  thought.  "  Some  people 
fancy  colors  are  like  sounds  of  music,  Hester." 

"Like  music,  sir?  I  don't  understand.  Will 
I  understand  some  day  ?  " 

"  Perhaps.  Now  if  each  color  was  to  become  a 
sound,  and  all  these  trees  were  to  sing,  what  a 
music  that  would  be!  " 

"  Would  n't  the  birds  be  frightened  ?  " 

"  Rather,"  said  WendeU,  laughing.  He  delighted 
to  talk  a  little  over  the  child's  head,  to  see  what 
answers  he  would  get.  "  Oh,  there  is  Mrs.  Wester- 
ley  ! "  he  exclaimed,  as  they  climbed  a  fence,  and 
began  to  walk  over  the  lawn  toward  the  house. 
He  knew  Hester  was  timid  and  shy,  owing  to  her 
want  of  frequent  contact  with  the  outside  world  of 


IN    WAR  TIME.  81 

men  and  women,  so  he  said  quietly,  "Don't  be 
afraid,  Hester." 

"  No,  sir." 

"  And  this  is  the  little  girl  I  have  heard  about," 
said  Mrs.  Westerley,  cool  and  handsome  in  white 
muslin,  for  the  day  was  warm,  and  holding  her 
straw  hat  swinging  in  her  hand.  "  Dr.  Lagrange 
is  waiting  for  you,  but  I  know  you  will  have  some 
delightful  excuse.  He  has  been  here  half  an  hour. 
I  envy  you  doctors  your  wealth  of  excuses!  I 
would  like  to  join  an  apology  class.  I  think,  with 
time  and  practice,  I  could  learn  to  fib  quite  agree- 
ably." 

Wendell  was  not  yet  up  to  the  matter  of  small 
social  badinage.  It  embarrassed  him,  and  he  hated 
to  be  embarrassed.  "I  was  delayed,"  he  said, 
gravely,  "  and  "  — 

Hester  felt  stirred  with  some  sort  of  vague  con- 
sciousness that  her  pleasant  companion  was  being 
taken  to  task.  "  I  wanted  him  to  stop  too  long  in 
the  woods  for  the  leaves,"  she  explained,  and  then 
proceeded  to  display  as  evidence  a  handful  of  her 
treasures. 

"  Oh,  terrible  infant !  "  laughed  the  lady.  "  A 
dangerous  advocate,  doctor.  She  was  just  in  time 
to  save  your  conscience." 

Wendell  flushed  almost  imperceptibly.  "  I  was 
detained,"  he  said.  "  If  you  will  take  care  of  Hes- 
ter, I  will  go  to  the  house." 

"  I  will  look  after  her,"  returned  Mrs.  Wester- 
ley.  "Come,  Hester,  I  love  little  girls.  Let  us 


82  IN  WAR  TIME. 

go  into  the  garden.  There  must  be  some  peaches 
yet." 

" Oh,  that  will  be  nice!' 

"  Well,  come,  and  let  us  look  for  them ;  and  as 
to  pears,  I  will  give  you  a  wheelbarrow  load." 

They  were  fast  friends  in  ten  minutes,  and  in  a 
half  hour  returned  to  the  house,  Hester  having 
eaten  twice  as  much  as  was  good  for  her. 

Meanwhile  there  had  been  a  consultation.  Wen- 
dell had  become  uneasy  about  his  patient's  condi- 
tion, and  it  was  yet  more  plain  to  the  elder  physi- 
cian that  the  drain  of  so  grave  a  wound  was  being 
badly  borne,  and  that  Morton's  increasing  irrita- 
bility and  nervousness  were  the  the  growing  results 
of  his  condition. 

"What  do  you  think  of  my  husband?"  said 
Mrs.  Morton  to  the  two  surgeons,  as  they  met  her 
at  the  foot  of  the  staircase. 

"Dr.  Wendell  will  tell  you,"  said  Lagrange, 
who  was  precise  in  all  the  little  matters  of  the 
rights  and  functions  of  the  attending  physician. 

"  I  hope  that  Dr.  Lagrange  will  feel  free  to  say 
what  he  thinks,"  replied  Wendell,  not  sorry  to  shift 
an  unpleasant  burden. 

"I  am  glad  that  one  doctor,  at  least,  can  forget 
this  eternal  etiquette,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Morton,  a 
woman  much  used  to  have  her  own  way  and  to  set 
aside  all  obstacles  to  her  will,  and  now  troubled 
out  of  her  usual  calm  of  manner. 

"  You  will  pardon  me,  I  am  sure,  if  I  say  that 
it  is  good  manners,  not  mere  etiquette,  my  dear 


IN   WAR   TIME.  83 

friend,"  answered  the  surgeon,  smiling ;  "  but  with 
Dr.  Wendell's  permission,  I  am  wholly  at  your 
service.  I  don't  —  I  should  say,  we  don't  quite 
like  Morton's  condition.  He  does  not  come  up  as 
he  should  do." 

"Is  he  in  danger?" 

"No,  he  is  in  no  immediate  danger." 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  get  well  ?  " 

"  We  hope  so." 

"  But  what  are  his  chances  ?  I  had  no  idea  he 
was  so  ill !  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  before  ?  " 

"  We  have  only  of  late  felt  so  uneasy.  It  is  a 
question  of  strength  of  constitution,  of  physical 
endurance,  and  of  power  to  take  food.  How  com- 
petent these  will  prove  no  one  can  tell." 

"  But  I  must  know,"  she  said.  "  Are  you  sure 
that  you  have  told  me  the  whole  truth? " 

"  Yes,  so  far  as  we  know  it." 

"  And  you  are  certain  ?  " 

"  Physicians  can  rarely  be  certain.  Those  who 
are  most  wise  are  the  least  apt  to  be  so.  If  you 
were  not  in  great  trouble,  I  am  sure  that  you  would 
not  have  asked  me  again." 

"  You  must  excuse  my  impatience,  doctor,  but  I 
wish  I  could  have  something  more  definite." 

"  I  wish  I  could  also,  my  dear  lady.  That  is  just 
one  of  the  miseries  of  our  profession.  If  it  would 
make  you  feel  easier  to  have  any  one  else  to  see 
him  with  us,  I  am  sure  nothing  would  be  more 
agreeable  to  Dr.  Wendell  and  myself." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Wendell.     This  was  not  pre- 


84  IN  WAR  TIME. 

cisely  true.  He  already  had  enough  help  in  the 
way  of  sharing  responsibility,  and  he  distrusted  in 
his  inward  consciousness  the  addition  of  some  one 
of  celebrity,  who  might  possibly  disturb  his  hold 
on  an  important  case  and  family;  for  already  he 
had  been  consulted  as  to  the  condition  of  Mrs. 
u  Morton's  elder  son,  who  was  an  invalid. 

"No,"  returned  Mrs.  Morton  wearily,  "I  only 
want  to  be  sure,  and  I  don't  suppose  any  one  can 
help  us  more  than  you.  If  you  cannot  make  me 
sure,  no  one  can." 

The  younger  man  felt  that  he  might  reasonably 
have  been  included  in  this  statement  of  confidence. 

"  You  will  come  often,  and  watch  him  closely  ?  " 
she  added. 

"  You  may  rest  assured  that  nothing  will  be  left 
undone,"  said  Lagrange. 

"  What  with  Mr.  Morton's  state  and  Edward's, 
I  am  worn  out,"  she  returned. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you,  Wendell,"  said  Lagrange, 
when  they  were  parting.  "  You  will  probably  have 
a  losing  fight  to  make.  But  it  will  not  be  the  last 
one  in  your  life.  Good-by.  See  you  on  Thursday. 
And  by  the  way,  —  and  as  I  am  an  old  fellow  you 
won't  mind  it,  —  I  would  be  a  little  more  punctual, 
/don't  mind  it  much  myself,  but  these  people  think 
themselves  important,  and  they  will." 

Wendell  was  never  very  patient  under  advice, 
and  disliked  it  always ;  but  he  wisely  thanked  the 
elder  man,  and  said  good-by. 

Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Westerley  and  Hester,  laugh- 


IN  WAR  TIME.  85 

ing  and  happy,  appeared  on  the  back  porch,  which 
looked  out  on  the  garden,  and  extended  along  the 
back  of  a  somewhat  roomy  and  old-fashioned  gray 
stone  house. 

As  Mrs.  Westerley  looked  up,  she  saw  Mrs.  Mor- 
ton seated  near  the  hall  door  gazing  dreamily  into 
distance.  Arthur,  her  younger  boy,  knelt  at  her 
side,  holding  her  hand,  and  her  older  son,  a  tall, 
broadly  built,  but  pale  young  man  of  twenty,  stood 
with  one  hand  on  her  shoulder,  his  face  disturbed 
and  grave,  and  his  eyes  filling.  As  Mrs.  Wester- 
ley  came  near,  he  left  his  mother,  saying  to  the 
new-comer,  "  Mother  has  just  heard  from  the  doc- 
tors that  my  father  is  not  so  well.  In  fact,  they 
are  very  uneasy  about  him." 

"  Oh,  Edward,  this  seems  very  sudden  !  It  can't 
be  so  bad.  Let  me  talk  with  her  alone.  There, 
Arty,  take  my  young  friend  to  Dr.  Wendell." 

The  younger  lad,  rising,  kissed  his  mother's 
cheek,  took  Hester's  hand,  and  followed  by  his 
brother,  who  moved  with  a  certain  feebleness  of 
step,  went  into  the  house. 

"  Is  this  really  so,  Helen  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Westerley. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  They  say  so.  I  cannot 
understand  how  a  man  of  his  vigor  and  health 
could  be  so  pulled  down.  It  is  n't  only  his  body, 
Alice,  but  he  is  irritable  and  exacting  beyond 
belief." 

"  But  you  don't  mind  that,  dear,  in  a  sick  man." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  don't  mind  it."  Yet  she  did.  Sick- 
ness was  to  Mrs.  Morton  a  sort  of  unreasonable 


86  IN  WAR  TIME. 

calamity,  and  held  for  her  always  some  sense  of 
personal  wrong.  When  her  children  were  ill,  and 
especially  Edward,  this  feeling  of  being  directly  in- 
jured rose  to  a  pitch  of  angry  indignation,  and  she 
then  showed,  despite  her  admirable  tact  and  good 
breeding,  that  curious,  wild,  half-animal  instinct  of 
protective  and  defiant  maternity  which  made  the 
doctor's  task  no  easy  one.  If  she  had  analyzed  the 
matter,  she  would  have  seen  what  was  clear  to  her 
shrewd  friend,  that  her  children  were  far  more  to 
her  than  her  husband.  He  had  disappointed  the 
keen  ambitions  with  which  she  had  begun  her  life 
with  him.  He  had  sympathized  with  her  early 
dream  of  a  political  career  for  him  until  they  were 
married,  when,  by  degrees,  it  became  clear  that  the 
small  disgusts  and  coarse  contacts  of  such  a  life 
were  amply  sufficient  to  defeat  any  display  of  en- 
ergy in  that  direction,  and  that  his  love  of  power 
was  incompetent  as  a  motive  to  do  more  than  to 
make  him  a  selfish,  amiable,  well-bred  despot  in 
his  own  home.  Then,  as  he  had  never  balked  his 
tastes,  he  had  had  some  unpleasant  intimacies, 
quite  too  much  talked  about  for  Helen's  comfort. 
And  so  at  last,  having  failed  to  arouse  him  to  as- 
sert himself  in  any  nobler  fashion,  the  woman  had 
come  to  feel  that  life  was  over  so  far  as  any  aspira- 
tions for  him  were  concerned,  and  to  look  to  her 
two  boys  with  anticipations  which  their  young  lives 
bade  fair  to  fulfill.  Then  came  the  war,  and  Mor- 
ton was  drawn  into  that  wild  vortex,  with  a  vague 
hope  on  his  wife's  part  that  at  last  he  would  illus- 


IN  WAR  TIME.  87 

trate  a  name  which  in  former  days  had  won  a  bril- 
liant reputation  in  the  colonial  and  later  history  of 
his  country.  And  now  this  hope,  too,  was  gone. 
His  career  in  the  army  had  been  successful.  He 
was  brave,  as  all  his  people  had  been ;  and  Helen 
Morton  had  felt  a  novel  access  of  tenderness  and 
seen  new  possibilities  of  happiness  in  his  success. 
Two  days  before,  she  had  learned  that  he  was  ga- 
zetted colonel  of  his  regiment,  and  now  it  was  all 
over  !  There  was  for  her  some  feeling  of  defeat  in  all 
this,  some  sense  of  a  too  malignant  fate.  Through- 
out her  married  life  she  had  writhed  under  the  hu- 
miliating sense  of  feebleness  that  strong  women 
feel  in  the  face  of  ineffective  struggles  to  urge  a 
lower  masculine  nature  into  activities  which  shall 
gratify  the  desires  for  position  and  a  career  denied 
to  themselves  by  the  thralldom  of  social  usage. 

Then  of  late  her  temper  had  been  sorely  taxed. 
All  that  was  worst  in  Morton  was  being  accentu- 
ated by  sickness,  and,  like  most  people  on  the  rack 
of  pain  and  weakness,  he  was  undergoing  the  pro- 
cess of  minor  moral  degradation  which  chronic  ill- 
ness brings  to  so  many.  Acute  brief  disease  may 
startle  us  to  better  and  graver  thoughts  of  our  aims 
and  our  actions,  but  prolonged  illness  makes  more 
noble  but  a  rare  and  chosen  few.  Mrs.  Morton  sat 
some  time  in  quiet,  and  at  last  said  abruptly,  — 

"  Alice,  this  is  the  bitterest  time  of  all  these  bit- 
ter years." 

Mrs.  Westerley  knew  in  a  measure  what  this 
meant,  but  she  felt  that  it  was  necessary,  as  a  mat- 


88  IN   WAR   TIME. 

ter  of  good  sense,  to  ignore  anything  hidden  in  her 
friend's  complaint,  and  to  deal  only  with  the  palpa- 
ble present. 

"  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  say  that,  my  dear. 
You  have  those  two  boys.  They  do  seem  to  me 
two  of  the  nicest,  sweetest-mannered  fellows !  It 
is  touching  to  see  how  they  hang  around  you.  And 
as  to  the  major,  —  we  ought  to  call  him  *  colonel ' 
now,  I  suppose,  poor  fellow  !  —  he  is  only  as  yet  an 
ill  man.  No  one  despairs  about  him." 

"  Oh,  it  is  n't  only  that,  Alice  ;  although,"  she 
added,  "  God  knows  that  is  bad  enough." 

"  I  think  I  understand,  dear." 

"  No,  you  don't.  Indeed,  how  could  you  ?  No 
one  understands  but  myself." 

"Well,  perhaps  not  all,  not  everything.  But 
here  is  the  nurse."  Then  Mrs.  Morton  went  into 
the  house,  and  Mrs.  Westerley  joined  Hester  and 
the  doctor,  who,  having  written  his  orders,  was 
about  to  depart. 

"  There  is  a  bit  of  twilight  yet,"  said  the  lady. 
"  I  will  walk  with  you  to  the  creek." 

"  Shall  we  take  the  road  ?  "  he  asked,  moodily. 

"  If  you  please." 

Wendell  was  uncomfortable,  and  he  hardly  knew 

why  it  was  so.     As  there  are  people  who  feel  slight 

atmospheric  changes  or  electric  conditions  of  the 

x  air,  so  there  are  others  who  are  exquisitely  alive 

^  to  the  little  annoyances  of  social  life.     They  are 

like  a  musician,  who  automatically  feels  the  defects 

of  this  or  that  player  in  a  great  orchestra,  and  is 


IN   WAR   TIME.  89 

made  unhappy  by  the  keenness  of  that  very  appre- 
ciativeness  which  fits  him  to  enjoy  the  perfection  of 
harmony.  If  our  eyes  were  microscopes  and  our 
ears  audiphones,  life  would  be  one  long  misery ; 
and  a  too  delicate  sense  of  the  moods  and  manner 
of  those  about  us  is  an  almost  equal  calamity. 
Wendell  had  learned  that  there  was  some  sting 
possible  for  him  in  the  ways  and  talk  of  even  the 
best  bred,  when  tormented  by  trouble  into  natural- 
ness of  speech.  It  surprised  and  hurt  him ;  nor 
could  his  reason  prevent  it  now  from  causing  one 
of  those  abruptly  born  senses  of  depression  to 
which  he  was  subject.  Feebly  yielding,  as  usual, 
to  the  mood,  he  walked  beside  the  gay  widow  in 
silence. 

"  You  seemed  troubled  about  Mr.  Morton,"  she 
began.  "  Are  you  troubled  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  glad  to  accept  any  excuse  for  his 
speechlessness.  "  Yes,  I  am  a  good  deal  troubled. 
It 's  an  awful  thing  to  see  death  coming  closer  and 
closer,  and  to  feel  that  you  are  in  a  measure  held 
to  be  responsible." 

He  had  not  meant  to  go  so  far,  but  his  depres- 
sion colored  his  talk. 

"  Surely,"  she  returned,  "  you  do  not  mean  that 
he  wiU  die  ?  " 

"  No,  not  surely,  —  of  course,  not  that  exactly ; 
only  that  he  is  ill,  very  ill." 

"  Is  n't  it  rather  sudden  ?  " 

"  It  is  always  so,  you  know.  A  patient  gets 
worse,  and  the  time  comes  when  you  have  to  say  so. 
Then  it  always  seems  to  be  sudden." 


90  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"I  don't  believe  that  he  will  die.  You  don't 
know  these  Mortons,  doctor.  They  have  such  con- 
stitutions !  I  am  sure  he  will  get  well." 

Mrs.  Westerley  had  no  belief  in  anybody's  dy- 
ing. Generally  the  people  she  knew  were  alive, 
and  she  herself  was  too  much  so  to  feel  death  at  all 
as  a  common  and  relentless  factor,  getting,  as  time 
went  on,  increasing  value  in  the  complicated  equa- 
tion of  being. 

The  conviction  somehow  singularly  comforted 
Wendell,  who,  like  other  doctors,  felt  deeply  the 
tone  of  those  about  him  who  held  relation  to  the 
sick. 

"  You  are  very  good  to  say  so,"  he  replied.  "  I 
find  it  often  as  hard  to  believe  in  life  as  you  do  in 
death." 

"  I  do  not  wonder  at  that,"  she  said.  "  But  it  is 
rather  grim  talk  for  the  child!  There,  run  on, 
Hester,  and  get  me  a  bunch  of  those  red  ash  ber- 
ries. What  a  charming  little  woman  she  is !  I 
would  like  to  know  who  her  people  are.  She  has 
a  pleasant,  quiet  flavor  of  the  old  manners  about 
her,  —  such  as  used  to  scare  me  in  my  grand- 
mamma Evelyn.  I  once  knew  a  Mr.  Gray  from 
Edisto.  I  wonder  if  she  belongs  to  that  family  ? 
They  were  very  blue  blood,  indeed,  and  I  dare  say 
did  their  wicked  best  to  get  us  into  this  present 
muddle.  I  wish,  for  my  part,  we  could  tow  Massa- 
chusetts and  South  Carolina  out  to  sea,  and  anchor 
/  them  together,  and  let  them  settle  their  difficul- 
ties!" 


IN  WAR   TIME.  91 

"Wendell  laughed.  "  It 's  well  you  're  not  a  man. 
You  would  soon  get  into  Fort  Lafayette." 

"  Oh,  that 's  just  one  of  the  many  advantages  of 
being  a  woman  !  Don't  you  think  I  am  horribly 
disloyal  ?  I  talked  so  to  old  Wilmington,  the  other 
night,  that  he  says  I  am  dangerous,  and  to-day 
he  would  hardly  speak  to  me ;  but  then  he  had  been 
taking  a  great  deal  of  the  major's  madeira,  and  his  </ 
nose  shone  like  a  cheerful  lighthouse  !  " 

Wendell  could  not  help  being  amused.  He 
wished  faintly  in  his  heart  that  Ann  Wendell,  who 
was  always  good-humored  in  a  level,  even  way,  had 
some  of  this  woman's  gayety. 

44 1  shall  not  inform  on  you,"  he  said,  smiling. 

"  It  would  n't  be  of  any  use.  I  gave  a  whole 
regiment  toothbrushes,  once,  and  when  I  get  very- 
bad  I  discipline  myself  and  comfort  my  friends  by 
sending  a  check  to  the  sanitary  commission." 

"  Rather  dear  penitence,"  he  returned. 

"  Yes,  is  n't  it  ?  But  one  must  do  something,  in 
these  days.  Now  if  I  only  were  a  man  "  — 

"  A  man  !     Why  ?  " 

"  How  can  you  ask  ?  I  should  be  in  it,  in  the 
war,  at  the  front,  I  mean.  I  hate  to  see  a  man 
about  the  streets,  when  I  know  that  we  could  crush  s 
it  all  out  so  easily  if  we  just  put  forth  our  strength. 
I  pity  that  boy,  Edward  Morton.  He  does  so  want 
to  join  the  army,  and  is  so  wretched  over  his  weak 
health." 

"  He  is  certainly  much  broken,"  said  Wendell, 
"  and  I  am  afraid  has  little  else  than  a  life  of  inva- 

7 


92  IN  WAR  TIME. 

1  id i. si  11  before  him  ;  and  what  is  worse,  he  cares  for 
nothing  really  but  out-of-door  life,  —  to  shoot,  fish, 
or  ride,  —  and  simply  yearns  after  that  wild  cattle 
ranch  in  Texas." 

"  Yes,  I  pity  him,"  she  said,  with  sudden  softness, 
wondering  a  little  that  the  strong,  healthy  man  at 
her  side  did  not  seem  to  quite  take  in  the  sadness  of 
this  broken  life.  "  I  pity  the  disappointed  !  Life 
has  been  so  sweet  and  soft  for  me,  and  so  joyous, 
every  breath  of  it.  Oh,  I  could  build  a  very  nice 
heaven  out  of  this  earth's  possibilities  !  " 

"  Would  n't  it  lack  something  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  might ;  surely  it  would.  But  you  must 
not  put  my  gay  moods  to  serious  question.  You 
have  been  so  pleasant  that  I  have  come  twice  as  far 
as  I  meant  to.  I  hope  you  feel  it  to  be  your  fault. 
Where  are  my  mountain  ash  berries  ?  Thank  you, 
you  dear  child!  How  nicely  you  have  tied  the 
stems  together  !  Good-night !  And  by  the  bye,  I 
want  to  call  on  Miss  Wendell.  Pray  tell  her  that 
I  hope  she  will  be  at  home  to  me,  whether  she  is 
out  to  others  or  not.  I  must  see  that  child  again. 
Good-night !  " 

Wendell  was  flattered,  amused,  and  puzzled. 
This  was  a  new  creature  to  him.  The  odd  reckless- 
ness of  statement,  the  sudden  changes  of  position  in 
regard  to  questions  discussed,  the  touch  of  malice  in 
her  talk  at  times  when  she  sketched  a  friend,  these 
all  bewildered  the  doctor.  Mr.  Wilmington  said 
of  her  that  she  dealt  little  in  amiable  phrases  and 
never  did  an  unkind  thing;  and  that  to  be  hei 


IN   WAR  TIME.  93 

friend  was  a  frightful  risk  of  character,  and  as  good 
assurance  of  mild  calumny  as  running  for  Con- 
gress. 

"  But  then,  my  dear  Mr.  Wilmington,"  said  the 
widow  to  that  old  gentleman,  when,  in  a  moment  of 
utter  exasperation,  he  betrayed  his  annoyance  in 
this  satirical  sentence,  "  it  is  of  no  use  to  abuse  my 
enemies  ;  besides,  I  have  none  but  you.  I  think 
my  friends  must  like  it,  for  they  do  not  desert  me  ; 
and  I  never  abuse  you,  Mr.  Wilmington,  — 
never !  " 


VII. 

WHEN  Wendell  told  his  sister  of  the  state  of 
things  at  the  Mortons',  she  said  that  he  would  have 
been  wise  to  have  stayed  with  them  that  night,  be- 
cause the  first  effect  of  such  intelligence  was  always 
"so  upsetting,"  as  she  phrased  it;  and  besides, 
with  her  warmer  recognition  of  the  calamities  of 
others,  she  felt  that  it  was  just  the  moment  to  add 
the  friend  to  the  doctor,  and  to  do  more  than  was 
asked.  Wendell  saw  the  truth  of  this,  but  not  so 
clearly  as  when  he  was  called  from  his  bed  that 
night  to  visit  his  patient,  who  had  become  increas- 
ingly feverish,  and  had  insisted  on  having  the  doc- 
tor at  once.  Then  Wendell  offered  to  sleep  at  the 
house,  until  the  major  grew  better,  and  his  offer 
being  gladly  accepted,  arrangements  were  made  to 
send  the  carriage  for  him  every  night  about  ten 
o'clock. 

The  constant  and  familiar  intercourse  with  the 
Mortons,  into  which  the  doctor  was  thus  thrown, 
became  of  great  use  to  him.  It  gentled  him,  as  the 
old  English  word  has  it;  and  with  the  natural 
quickness  of  an  American,  he  saw  and  assimilated 
a  good  deal  of  what  was  most  akin  to  his  tastes, 
which  tended  towards  easy  acceptance  of  whatever 
was  pleasant  or  graceful.  Moreover,  all  of  these 


IN  WAR  TIME.  95 

people  interested  him,  and  were  some  of  them  as 
novel  to  his  former  social  experiences  as  would 
have  been  the  flora  of  another  planet  to  his  botani- 
cal knowledge. 

The  Mortons,  like  many  other  of  the  older  Penn- 
sylvania families,  had  once,  in  very  early  colonial 
times,  been  Quakers,  or,  as  they  even  yet  preferred 
to  say,  "  Friends."  They  had,  however,  long  since 
deserted  the  following  of  Penn,  or,  what  was  more 
probable,  had  in  stricter  days  been  cut  off  from  the 
society  for  breaches  of  discipline,  and  were  now,  and 
had  long  been,  "  world's  people  "  to  other  Mortons, 
their  kinsfolk,  who  came  to  the  house  at  times,  and 
were  as  well  satisfied  with  their  ancestry  as  with 
the  polish  of  their  old  plate,  or  the  ineffable  silk  of 
their  marvelous  bonnets.  There  came  also  many 
visitors  representing  staid  families  who  had  lived 
since  Penn's  settlement  in  or  near  the  old  borough 
of  Germantown,  and  who  had  the  distinctiveness  and 
individuality  of  people  long  hedged  about  by  un- 
changing circumstances.  Their  young  folks  mostly 
slipped  away  to  the  calmly  growing  city,  or  went  to 
New  York,  and  were  then  interiorly  and  vaguely 
regarded  by  aged  aunts  as  lost  souls.  Those  who 
remained  in  the  ancient  homesteads,  and  lived  and 
died  adhesive  to  the  soil,  held  a  certain  distinct 
social  place  and  position,  passively  yielded  rather 
than  demanded.  It  was  not  always  easy  to  see  why 
a  few  of  these  breeds  had  won  early  in  colonial  life, 
and  held  so  steadily,  their  places  on  the  upper 
levels  of  society.  It  may  have  been  sometimes 


96  /TV  WAR  TIME. 

because  of  the  general  possession  of  shrewdness  and 
business  capacity,  the  cumulative  quality,  or  that, 
among  numberless  commonplace  people  of  their 
race,  each  generation  produced  one  or  two  who  rose 
to  distinction,  and  thus  illustrated  a  name  and  sus- 
tained its  influence. 

The  little  straggling  town,  with  its  long  main 
street  and  outlying  lanes,  was  full  of  such  people  as 
these ;  whilst  also  there  were  frequent  visitors  from 
the  city,  relatives  or  friends  of  the  Mortons, — 
quiet  Philadelphians,  with  set  ways,  and  seemingly 
as  much  alike  as  their  marble  doorsteps,  yet  ready 
with  an  odd  fund  of  undeveloped  enterprise  for 
emergencies,  if  they  were  sufficiently  important. 

To  many  of  these  people  Wendell  was  more  or 
less  an  interesting  person,  as  a  new  comer  and  the 
attendant  of  a  man  of  social  importance  and  of 
large  fortune,  and  found  this  position  by  no  means 
unpleasant.  He  amused  Morton,  who  liked  people 
to  talk  for  him,  and  who  himself  never  talked  more 
than  he  could  help ;  so  that,  had  it  not  been  for 
the  occasional  breakdowns  in  his  patient's  case,  his 
doctor  would  have  felt,  on  the  whole,  that  his  own 
life  was  becoming  more  and  more  easy  and  agree- 
able. 

All  this  while  the  war  was  moving  on,  and  of  its 
fortunes  and  their  influences  the  little  village  had 
their  share.  There  were  families  whom  it  tore 
asunder,  and  others  whom  it  doomed  to  mourn 
their  noblest.  There  were  those  of  the  Society  of 
Friends  who  looked  on  it  as  wrong,  from  beginning 


IN  WAR  TIME.  97 

to  end,  but  who  expended  time  and  money  on  hos- 
pitals and  the  wounded ;  while  now  and  then  some 
resolute  young  fellow,  like  the  famous  Free  Quak- 
ers of  the  Revolutionary  War,  would  defy  the  so- 
ciety and  the  overseers,  and  go  off  to  the  front. 
These  gallant  backsliders  from  the  creed  of  Penn 
and  Barclay  generally  made  themselves  heard  of 
in  the  struggle,  and  helped  to  make  up  a  healthy 
average  of  active  pugnacity  for  many  a  kindly, 
quiet  stock  which  had  struck  no  blow  in  anger  for 
a  century  and  a  half.  Out  of  it  all  came  an  in- 
crease of  life,  a  freshening  of  national  vitality, 
which  was  felt  most  in  the  centres  of  population, 
and  which,  stirring  all  social  classes,  developed  for 
good  or  ill  whatever  there  was  susceptible  of  out- 
growth alike  in  old  and  young.  Certainly,  no 
period  in  the  history  of  our  race  was  ever  more  in- 
teresting. 

"I  am  eighteen,  and  over,"  said  Arthur  Mor- 
ton ;  "  and  next  year,  by  George,  I  'd  like  to  see 
what  will  keep  me  out  of  this  war !  I  am  so  big 
now,  I  'm  ashamed  to  have  a  girl  look  at  me  in  the 
street,  and  I  always  feel  sure  that  she  is  saying, 
*  There  's  a  fellow  who  ought  to  be  at  the  front.'  " 

"  Bother,  Arty !  I  don't  believe  they  think  of  you 
at  all,"  said  the  elder  brother. 

"  Well,  perhaps  not;  but  I  think  of  myself." 

"  Oh,  doubtless." 

"  Come,  Ned,  don't  chaff  me  about  this.  When 
a  Quaker  like  Fox  thinks  it  his  duty  to  go  "  — 


98  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  Must  be  an  awful  let-up  to  a  Quaker,"  replied 
Edward.  "  But  look  here,  old  man,"  he  went  on, 
as  he  bent  over  the  table,  sketching  fancy  heads  on 
the  margins  of  a  morning  paper :  "  there  are  two 
sides  to  this  question ;  and  after  all,  you  could  n't 
go  now,  the  way  father  is.  I  am  of  less  and  less 
use  every  day.  Don't  talk  about  it  to  mother ;  and 
if  you  are  down  about  it,  Arty,  just  think  what  I 
must  be.  Think  what  I  must  be !  " 

"  That  won't  help  me,"  said  the  boy.  "  Because 
you  can't  go  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not.  In 
fact,  that  is  an  additional  reason  why  I  ought  to  go. 
But  I  suppose  there  is  no  use  in  talking  about  it 
now!" 

"  No,  there  is  no  use.  And  I  say,  old  man,  don't 
talk  to  me  about  it  any  more ;  not  till  you  must, 
anyhow !  Damn  it,  Art  —  I  —  I  can't  stand  it !  I 
hate  books.  I  never  read  any.  I  detest  this  quiet, 
humdrum  life  of  our  great  towns.  I  love  a  horse 
and  a  gun,  and  —  and  —  Arty,  I  shall  never  have 
them  any  more,  —  never !  "  he  repeated,  throwing 
down  his  pencil. 

"  Yes,  you  will,  Ned ;  I  am  sure  you  will." 

"Then  you  are  sure  without  cause.  This  war 
will  be  over,  and  I  shall  have  struck  no  blow  in  it ; 
and  Arty,  don't  you  go  to  thinking  it  romantic,  but 
when  I  look  ahead,  and  know  how  all  the  man  in 
me  is  going  to  shrivel  up  by  degrees,  and  that  — 
oh,  brother,  I  might  have  ridden  with  Custer,  and 
died  man-like  in  some  wild  rush  of  battle !  Oh,  by 
George,  old  fellow,  I  am  just  like  a  fish  on  dry 


IN  WAR  TIME.  99 

land.  I  think  I  begin  to  understand  what  Mrs. 
Westerley  meant,  last  week,  when  she  said  that 
there  was  a  certain  completeness  of  calamity  that 
approached  the  ludicrous.  However,  I  can  tell  you 
one  thing :  you  will  never  hear  me  complain  again. 
I  have  said  my  say.  A  fellow  must  have  his  growl 
out  to  somebody." 

"  I  would  stay  at  home,  if  I  could  make  it  so 
you  could  go,"  said  Arthur,  who  had  a  boy's  admi- 
ration of  the  elder  brother.  "I  wish  they  had 
some  fellows  like  you  in  command  of  that  Potomac 
army." 

"  Pshaw !  I  can't  command  myself,  even,  as  you 
may  see.  Don't  spread  yourself  on  me  as  a  hero, 
and  above  all  not  a  word  to  mother.  Does  n't  it 
seem,  sometimes,  as  if  life  were  one  great  muddle, 
Arty  ?  Give  me  my  stick.  Here  's  the  doctor  and 
Mrs.  Westerley,  and  there  comes  Mr.  Wilmington 
up  the  road.  What  a  covey  of  queer  birds !  " 

After  the  doctor  had  gone  upstairs,  the  young 
men  went  out  to  the  porch  to  join  Mrs.  Westerley, 
when  Mr.  Wilmington  rode  up  on  his  tall  sorrel 
thoroughbred,  which  not  many  people  cared  to 
mount. 

The  slightly  built  old  gentleman,  with  an  uncom- 
monly red  face  and  a  nose  inclined  to  purple,  was 
on  his  feet  in  an  instant,  and  bowing  over  the  wid- 
ow's hand  in  an  antiquated  and  formal  fashion. 
He  immensely  admired  her  when  she  was  present, 
and  entirely  disapproved  of  her  when  she  was  ab- 


100  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  Charmed  to  see  you,  Mrs.  Westerley,"  he  said, 
raising  his  large  gray  eyes,  with  something  quaintly 
solemn  in  their  gaze. 

"  And  how  are  your  nieces  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Very  well,  thank  you." 

"  And  is  there  any  afternoon  news  ?  " 

"None,  I  believe.  But  as  Mr.  Addison  says, 
'The  steps  of  time,' —  Bother!  1  wish  Susie 
were  here  !  She  always  knows  what  it  is  —  As 
Mr.  Addison  "  — 

"  Yes,  about  Robinson  Crusoe,  and  the  footsteps 
on  the  sands  of  time,"  said  the  widow,  viciously, 
while  the  two  lads  exchanged  a  surreptitious  smile 
of  amusement. 

"  No,"  ejaculated  Wilmington  calmly,  "  that 
is  n't  it !  How  is  your  father,  boys  ?  " 

"Much  the  same,  sir.  He  wants  to  see  you 
when  the  doctor  goes." 

"  Well,  I  will  wait." 

"  What  a  lovely  day  !  "  said  Mrs.  Westerley. 

"  Yes,  the  day  seems  quite  lovely,"  assented 
Wilmington. 

"  But  we  want  rain." 

"  Yes,  we  want  rain  very  much." 

"  Our  wells  are  nearly  dry  "  — 

"  Indeed,  mine  is  quite  dry." 

"  But  luckily  weather  does  not  affect  wine,  at  all, 
t  am  told  ;  at  least,  not  madeira." 

"  No,  I  don't  think  weather  affects  wine,  but  the 
moon  does." 

"  And  when  are  you  coming  over  to  taste  my  ma- 


IN  WAR  TIME.  101 

deira,  Mr.  Wilmington  ?  I  am  told  it  is  good ;  but 
Major  Morton  said,  last  spring,  that  it  needed  care, 
—  like  myself,  he  was  kind  enough  to  add.  Come 
to-morrow,  and  take  care  of  some  of  it  for  me. 
You  know  that  when  we  are  out  of  town  we  dine 
at  three.  I  don't  want  to  make  a  big  dinner  while 
the  major  is  ill,  but  I  will  ask  Doctor  Wendell,  — 
I  want  to  ask  him.  And,  Edward,  I  suppose  you 
won't  care  to  come  ?  " 

/  "  No.     Mother  's  all  the  time  urging  me  to  leave 
/  the  house,  but  I  can't  do  it ;  I  really  cannot." 

"  Well,  then,  I  must  find  some  one  else.  Shall 
it  be  to-morrow,  Mr.  Wilmington  ?  " 

"  Nothing  could  give  me  greater  pleasure,"  said 
the  old  gentleman.  "  At  three  to-morrow,  madam. 
At  three,  you  said  ?  " 

Wendell  also  received  his  invitation  ;  and  when 
the  widow  added,  "  You  know  they  are  quite  infor- 
mal, —  our  summer  dinings.  Don't  put  on  a  dress- 
coat,"  he  thanked  her,  and  went  away  pleased  and 
a  trifle  puzzled.  To  be  told  what  he  was  to  wear 
struck  him  as  comical. 

"  I  will  walk  with  you,"  said  Edward,  "  if  you 
are  not  in  a  hurry,  and  will  give  me  your  arm." 

"  How  are  you  doing  ?  "  asked  the  doctor,  as  they 
moved  away. 

"  I  am  worse,  doctor.  I  walk  badly,  and  I  try 
in  vain  to  hide  it  from  mother."  Then  pausing  a 
moment,  he  added,  "  Shall  I  go  down  hill  rapidly  ? 
You  may  be  sure  that  I  am  fully  prepared  to  hear 
the  worst  you  can  tell  me ;  and  frankly,  I  would 


102  IN  WAR  TIME. 

rather  know  what  I  have  to  expect.     Just  answer 
me  two  or  three  questions,  will  you  ?  " 

"  If  you  really  wish  it." 

"  Yes,  I  do  wish  it.     Shall  I  lose  all  use  of  my 


"No,  I  think  not." 

"  Will  my  head  suffer  ?  Shall  I  lose  my  mind  ? 
That 's  not  —  or  at  least  it  was  not  —  as  good  as 
my  legs  ;  but  still,  when  it  is  all  there  is  left  "  — 

"  No ;  that  does  n't  often  happen  in  these 
troubles." 

"  Then  I  shall  still  be  of  a  little  use  at  home, 
and  no  worse  off  than  some  ugly  girl  whom  no  one 
wants  to  marry  !  "  After  a  pause  he  again  spoke  : 
"  There  is,  I  suppose,  not  the  faintest  chance  that  I 
shall  ever  be  well  enough  to  sit  a  horse?  " 

"  Hardly,  I  think ;  but  while  there  is  life  there  is 
hope." 

Wendell  was  ashamed  of  this  stupid  common- 
place of  consolation,  but  in  truth  he  did  not  know 
what  to  say. 

"  And  to  think  of  all  the  healthy-legged  idiots 
who  can  go  to  the  front,  and  are  dawdling  about 
Newport  and  Saratoga !  Oh,  doctor —  By  Heaven, 
but  it 's  hard  I  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Wendell,  "it  is  hard,"  and 
walked  in  silence.  He  felt  in  a  vague  way  for  the 
lad,  but  did  not  know  what  to  say.  He  tried  to  put 
himself,  mentally,  in  this  young  fellow's  place,  but 
neither  his  experience  nor  his  intelligence  suggested 
to  him  just  what  he  ought  to  say ;  for  although  a 


IN  WAR  TIME.  103 

dreamily  imaginative  man,  he  was  possessed  of 
none  of  that  realistic,  half -dramatic  faculty,  which 
in  its  highest  developments  and  united  with  tender- 
ness constitutes  the  genius  of  sympathy.  With  all 
his  love  of  poetry  and  of  nature,  he  lacked  this 
precious  gift. 

"  Yes,  it  is  hard,  —  it  is  very  hard,"  he  contin- 
ued, after  a  pause ;  and  so  saying,  regretted  the 
distinctness  with  which  he  had  answered  the  young 
man's  straightforward  queries.  He  had  left  him- 
self none  of  the  usual  vaguely  consolatory  doubts 
on  which  the  over-questioned  doctor  is  apt  to  fall 
back. 

"  I  did  n't  expect  you  to  say  anything  to  comfort 
me,"  said  Edward.  "  What  I  really  wanted  was 
the  truth." 

"  You  asked  me  to  be  frank,"  returned  Wendell, 
who  did  not  easily  recognize  a  direct  nature,  and 
was  apt  to  search  his  index  of  human  motives  un- 
der other  than  the  obvious  headings  for  what  was 
plainly  to  be  read  on  the  page  before  him,  and  who 
fancied  no  one  could  want  a  cruel  truth  set  before 
him  in  its  nakedness.  Had  he  been  a  true  woman, 
he  would  have  been  touched  by  the  manliness  and 
moral  courage  of  the  young  fellow's  questions. 
Had  he  been  a  more  masculine  man,  he  would  have 
met  them  with  sympathetic  appreciation. 

"  Yes,"  repeated  Edward,  "  I  asked  you  to  be 
frank,  and  I  am  really  very  thankful,  sir,  that  you 
have  told  me  everything.  It  must  be  hard  for  a 
doctor  to  do  this,"  said  the  lad,  with  a  slight  tremor 


104  IN  WAR  TIME. 

about  his  lips,  and  with  a  strange  and  thoughtful 
gentleness,  "  and  perhaps  I  ought  to  have  saved 
you  the  annoyance  of  telling  me.  In  fact,  I  did 
think  of  writing ;  but  it  came  out,  somehow,  just 
now,  in  spite  of  my  not  being  quite  ready.  On  the 
whole,  it  is  just  as  well." 

"  I  thought  so,  poor  boy !  He  did  not  really  want 
the  truth,"  said  Wendell  to  himself ;  not  seeing  how 
much  the  lad  had  considered  the  doctor's  embar- 
rassing share  in  the  matter,  nor  how  completely  he 
had  overrated  the  doctor's  sympathetic  reluctance 
to  be  unpleasantly  outspoken. 

There  are  delicate  overtones  of  unselfishness 
which  belong  only  to  the  purest  and  sweetest  nat- 
ures refined  by  the  truest  good-breeding.  They  are 
of  the  very  poetry  of  social  conduct.  The  lad  was 
full  of  them ;  but  Wendell  unfortunately  was  one 
whose  sensibility  to  moral  harmonies  failed  of  hear- 
ing-power for  these  higher  notes  of  the  gamut  of 
character. 

He  answered  young  Morton  with  a  few  phrases 
of  ordinary  consolation,  to  which  the  latter  made 
no  reply,  save  to  drop  now  and  then  a  simple  affir- 
mative. In  fact,  he  was  lost  to  the  passing  moments, 
and  was  sadly  looking  back  upon  a  world  of  action, 
V  and  forward  to  a  world  of  passive  inactivity.  Then 
he  suddenly  set  these  thoughts  aside  for  a  calmer 
hour,  and,  stopping,  put  out  his  hand. 

"  You  have  been  a  good  friend  to  me,"  he  said. 
"Do  watch  my  father  well,  and  keep  an  eye  on 
mother,  too.  So  far  she  bears  her  troubles  admira- 


IN  WAR  TIME.  105 

bly;  but  what  with  father's  state  and  my  own  mis- 
erable bothers,  it  would  n't  surprise  me  to  see  her 
break  down." 

"  Her  power  of  endurance  is  certainly  remarka- 
ble," returned  Wendell.  "  Indeed,  I  was  surprised, 
yesterday,  to  see  how  she  could  turn  aside  from  it 
all.  When  I  came  downstairs,  after  seeing  your 
father  alone,  I  found  her  quite  amused  over  Hes- 
ter's comments  on  those  queer  plant  caricatures  of 
GrandviUe." 

"  Yet,"  said  Edward,  "  my  mother  is  not  very 
fond  of  young  girls.  But  I  think  Hester  really  de- 
lights her.  You  do  not  know  that  years  and  years 
ago  we  lost  a  little  sister,  and  that  ever  since  then 
mother  has  seemed  to  take  no  interest  at  all  in 
girls.  It  is  a  thing  I  never  could  quite  understand. 
I  have  seen  her  put  herself  out  of  the  way  to  avoid 
talking  to  them,  or  being  long  with  them.  But  she 
appears  to  take  to  Hester  in  a  way  I  cannot  see 
through  —  I  don't  mean  —  what  I  mean  is  that  the 
girl  is  so  gay,  and  alive,  and  full  of  childish  sur- 
prises, of  odd  ideas,  that  any  one  must  like  her; 
but  mother,  in  my  memory,  has  never  shown  any 
pleasure  in  a  little  girl.  I  say  all  this,  doctor,  be- 
cause it  may  make  you  feel  that  Hester  is  a  good 
person  to  have  in  our  house." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Wendell.  "  I  have  sometimes 
hesitated"  — 

"Well,  don't,  then!  She  will  always  be  wel- 
come,—  as  welcome  as  you;  and  that  is  saying  a 


106  IN  WAR  TIME. 

good  deal.     Good-night,  doctor,  and  once  again, 

thank  you." 

"  Shall  I  give  you  my  arm  back  to  the  house  ?  " 
"  Oh,  no,"  replied  Edward,  laughing.     "  I  shall 

hobble  along  slowly.     Good-night." 


vm. 

EZRA  WENDELL  was  gratified  at  the  prospect 
of  dining  with  Mrs.  Westerley,  and  not  less  that 
Mr.  Wilmington  was  to  be  of  the  party.  He  knew 
that  the  old  gentleman  was  something  of  a  force  in 
the  Morton  household,  and  a  man  socially  well  con- 
sidered everywhere ;  and  the  doctor  over-estimated 
such  influences,  as  people  are  apt  to  over-estimate 
the  values,  social  or  other,  of  taciturn  persons. 
Then  also  Mrs.  Morton,  who  had  now  taken  Wen- 
dell's fortunes  in  charge,  had  told  him  that  Mr. 
Wilmington  had  spoken  about  consulting  him  in 
regard  to  his  gout.  The  doctor  was  pleased,  too, 
because  Morton  was  somewhat  better  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  so  that  altogether  his  sensitiveness  of  tempera- 
ment was  agreeably  dealt  with  by  events,  and  he 
went  with  more  than  usual  cheerfulness  through 
his  day's  work,  trying  to  suppress  the  feeling  that 
there  was  anything  unusual  in  the  matter  of  dining 
with  a  handsome  and  sprightly  woman. 

Mrs.  Westerley  was  a  lady  by  no  means  given  to 
half  measures.  She  had  for  the  present  "  lost  her 
heart  to  these  utterly  unconventional  people,  my 
dear."  It  was  a  question  how  long  the  loss  would 
continue,  but  at  the  time  we  speak  of  she  had  so- 
cially adopted  the  doctor,  and  meant  not  only  that 


108  IN  WAR  TIME. 

he  should  succeed  medically,  but  also  that  the  little 
aristocracy  of  the  neighborhood  should  accept  him 
in  social  relations.  All  men  interested  Mrs.  Wes- 
terley,  and  this  one  was  to  her  a  quite  novel,  and 
therefore  a  valuable,  variety  of  the  genus  homo. 
Moreover,  just  at  present  she  was  somewhat  bored, 
which,  to  do  her  justice,  was  rare,  since,  as  a  rule, 
her  means  of  amusement  were  as  varied  as  the 
hours  allowed.  She  had  married  young,  and  within 
a  year  had  lost  her  husband  by  an  accident.  She 
had  mourned  him  in  due  fashion,  and  then  had  ab- 
ruptly laid  aside  her  widow's  weeds,  and  crossed 
the  ocean,  to  become  a  favorite  in  pleasant  circles, 
and  to  return,  after  several  winters,  the  same  gay, 
light-hearted  woman  as  before.  What  lay  beneath 
this  joyous  masquerade  only  one  woman  —  Mrs. 
Morton  —  knew,  and  the  daws  believed  that  Alice 
Westerley  had  no  heart  to  wear  upon  her  sleeve. 

At  present,  she  was  bent  upon  attracting  as  well 
as  helping  the  new  doctor,  and  she  was  hardly  less 
inclined  to  please  his  sister,  as,  like  some  few 
women,  she  enjoyed,  next  to  her  male  conquests, 
those  of  her  own  sex.  Of  Miss  Wendell,  she  as 
yet  knew  nothing,  except  that  Mrs.  Morton  de- 
scribed her  as  a  "  very  nice,  plain  kind  of  person, 
who  does  n't  wear  cuffs,  and  who,  of  all  women, 
could  not  possibly  interest  you,  my  dear." 

Nevertheless,  Mrs.  Westerley  ordered  her  ponies 
at  eleven  o'clock,  and,  with  a  critical  look  at  groom 
and  harness,  she  set  off  on  a  round  of  errands,  with 
the  intention  of  calling  last  upon  Miss  Wendell. 


IN  WAR  TIME.  109 

Presently,  as  she  drove  down  the  main  street,  she 
pulled  up  suddenly,  with  an  abruptness  to  which 
her  ponies  were  not  altogether  unused. 

"  Mr.  Fox !  "  she  cried,  "  Mr.  Fox !  "  An  erect, 
broadly-built  man,  of  more  than  middle  height, 
clean-shaven  and  of  fair  color,  approached  her  car- 
riage. "  I  should  have  called  you  '  colonel,'  "  she 
said.  "  I  heard  you  were  at  home  on  leave.  Come 
and  dine  with  me  at  three.  As  to  my  human  m£nu, 
there  is  a  clever  doctor  for  my  piece  of  resistance, 
and  old  Wilmington,  and  myself." 

The  colonel  was  in  undress  uniform,  and  said 
quietly,  "  Yes,  I  would  like  it ;  but  may  I  go  away 
early?  And,  by  the  way,  I  haven't  the  sign  of 
a  civilized  dress,  only  my  police  uniform,"  and  he 
looked  round  at  his  shoulder-straps,  smiling. 

"  As  to  uniform,"  she  replied,  "  I  will  try  to  bear 
it.  I  am  an  awful  copperhead,  you  know.  But 
we  dine  at  three,  as  we  always  do  in  summer.  As 
to  going  away  early,  you  may ;  but  I  am  sure  you 
won't.  And  I  forgot  to  say  that  I  have  some  tre- 
mendous madeira." 

The  colonel's  brown  eyes  lifted.  "  I  will  come, 
even  at  the  risk  of  storing  up  awful  retributive 
memories  for  days  in  camp,  when  the  fare  is  beans 
and  bacon." 

"  Three  o'clock,  then.  Good-by,"  and  she  drove 
away.  "Gracious,"  she  exclaimed,  "what  an  es- 
cape! If  I  had  had  to  leave  my  doctor  to  talk 
madeira  with  Wilmington!  What  nice  eyes  the 
man  has ! " 


110  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Her  errands  done,  the  ponies  drew  up  beneath 
the  lindens  in  front  of  Dr.  Wendell's  house.  There 
was  no  need  to  ring.  Hester  Gray  was  sitting  on 
the  stoop  at  the  door,  in  the  warm  October  sun- 
shine, surrounded  by  a  queer  little  museum  of  mis- 
cellaneous objects,  over  which  the  widow's  eyes 
passed,  amazed.  There  were  two  glass  preserving- 
jars,  with  a  spray  or  two  of  leaves  in  each,  on  which 
some  green  and  gold  caterpillars  were  patiently 
browsing.  In  the  girl's  lap  were  a  large  land  turtle 
and  several  square  paper  boxes,  as  well  as  an  open 
blank  book,  in  which  she  was  pasting  very  neatly  a 
brilliant  collection  of  autumn  leaves.  She  looked 
up  pleasantly,  and  setting  aside  her  work  rose  to 
her  feet. 

"Why,  Hester,  what  is  all  this?"  asked  Mrs. 
Westerley. 

"  I  just  brought  out  my  caterpillars  to  have  some 
sun,"  the  girl  replied.  "Dr.  Wendell  says  they 
like  it,  and  this  one  is  making  a  cocoon.  Shall  I 
take  out  the  big  green  one  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,  no !  "  returned  the  widow ;  "  it  might 
disturb  him.  And  what  is  that  curious  beast  do- 
ing, on  his  hind  legs  ?  I  really  think  he  must  be 
saying  his  prayers." 

"Not  he!"  cried  Hester,  laughing.  "And  do 
you  want  to  see  my  leaves,  Mrs.  Westerley  ?  " 

"  Not  now,  my  dear.  Kun  and  tell  your  aunt  I 
am  here." 

"  Aunt  ?  Oh,  you  know  she  is  not  my  aunt," 
returned  Hester,  tranquilly. 


IN  WAR  TIME.  Ill 

"  Of  course,  I  know.     I  mean  Miss  Wendell." 

"  Yes."  And  carefully  setting  aside  her  menag- 
erie, the  child  said,  "Please  to  come  in.  I  will 
call  Miss  Ann." 

Mrs.  Westerley  entered  the  parlor,  and,  wander- 
ing about,  took  a  pleased  survey  of  its  appearance. 
"  I  wonder,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  where  that  Delft 
bowl  came  from.  The  mark  is  good,"  she  added, 
examining  it  critically.  "  And  the  books,"  she  ex- 
claimed, with  renewed  curiosity,  turning  to  the 
table,  —  "  what  a  droll  assortment !  Swedenborg, 
Divine  Love  and  Wisdom,  Browning,  Hakewill's 
Apologia,  —  gracious  heavens,  does  any  one  read  a 
book  that  big?  —  Ford's  plays,  Edwards  on  the 
Will,  Quarles'  Emblems.  I  should  like  to  know 
who  reads  which,  as  Arty  says." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Wendell,"  she  exclaimed,  turning  to 
greet  Ann  with  one  of  her  most  charming  smiles, 
"  how  pleasant  to  find  you  at  home !  " 

"  Will  you  sit  down  ? "  said  Ann,  composedly. 
"  My  brother  told  me  that  you  were  coming  to  see 
me.  I  am  sure  you  are  very  kind.  It  is  quite 
neighborly." 

"  Of  course  I  should  come.  What  a  lovely  room 
you  have !  So  much  color  !  You  must  have  studied 
the  effects  a  good  deal." 

"I  am  afraid,"  rejoined  Ann,  "that  I  don't 
think  much  of  the  colors.  If  I  can  only  keep  it 
clean,  I  am  more  than  satisfied." 

"  But  one  of  you  must  think  a  good  deal  about 
matters  of  taste.  That  Bartolozzi  is  not  only  beauti- 
ful, but  it  is  a  proof  and  very  rare." 


112  IN   WAR  TIME. 

"  My  brother  Ezra  is  responsible  for  these  small 
extravagances.  He  says  that  they  make  life  easier ; 
but  when  I  have  to  dust  them,  —  and  I  assure  you 
that  is  very  often,  —  I  know  he  is  mistaken  in  that 
view  of  them.  If  he  were  the  housekeeper,  he 
would  find  that  so  many  little  things  make  life  a 
good  deal  harder!  I  don't  mean  it  is  a  matter 
really  to  make  a  fuss  over." 

This  candid  expression  of  domestic  difficulties 
amused  and  puzzled  the  widow  a  little,  but  she  re- 
plied, "  Indeed,  I  have  much  the  same  troubles,  and 
servants  do  break  things.  Don't  you  find  that  they 
break  things  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Ann,  simply.  "I  do  all  the  dusting 
myself,  and  I  am  careful,  very  careful,  because 
brother  values  all  these  prints  and  bits  of  china." 

"  And  how  beautiful  and  charming  they  are !  I 
was  looking  at  that  bowl  on  the  mantel,  before  you 
came  down.  It  is  Delft,  and  very  good  Delft." 

"  Yes,  that  is  one  of  the  few  things  from  home. 
I  believe  it  came  to  Scituate  in  the  Speedwell.  My 
brother  says  that  it  belonged  to  an  ancestress  of 
ours,  a  Mistress  Elizabeth  Blossom.  There  is  some- 
thing about  her  and  her  father  in  a  book  we  have. 
I  think  they  came  over  in  1640.  How  far  away  it 
seems !  And  now  this  bowl  is  all  there  is  left  on 
earth  to  remember  her  by." 

Mrs.  Westerley  was  interested.  There  was  a 
mild  flavor  of  gentility  in  this  ancient  Pilgrim 
breed,  keeping,  in  its  insignificant  existence  on  the 
shores  of  Cape  Cod,  some  pride  of  long  descent. 


IN   WAR   TIME.  113 

"  And  you  are  proud,"  said  the  widow,  "  of  your 
stern  Puritan  blood.  I  think  I  should  be." 

"  Oh,  but  we  were  not  Puritans,"  returned  Ann ; 
"  we  were  Pilgrims,  you  know.  There  is  a  great 
difference." 

Mrs.  Westerley  did  not  know,  but  she  put  the 
matter  aside  for  future  reference,  saying,  — 

"  Of  course,  —  yes,  of  course.  But  do  you  know, 
your  brother  does  n't  seem  to  me  like  a  New  Eng- 
lander?" 

"Does  n't  he ?  I  never  thought  of  it  at  all,  my- 
self. Why  does  n't  he?" 

"  Well,  really,  I  could  hardly  say,  but  he  does 
not."  She  had  in  her  own  mind  an  idea  that  there 
was  about  Wendell  a  certain  softness  of  manner 
which  was  Southern  in  its  character ;  but  this  was 
not  quite  the  thing  she  desired  to  say,  and  so  she 
added,  "  He  talks  more  like  a  Mary  lander,  I  think." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  was  called  on  to  notice 
that,  but  it  may  be  that  he  does." 

"  Have  you  heard  him  say  to-day  what  he  thinks 
of  Major  Morton?" 

"  No ;  I  have  not  seen  him  since  his  morning 
visit." 

"I  think  you  would  feel  pleased  if  you  could 
hear  how  the  Mortons  speak  of  him.  He  has  been 
so  good,  and  so  gentle  with  the  major;  and  per- 
haps you  have  little  idea  of  that  man's  irritability ! 
Indeed,  I  can't  understand  how  any  one  could  get 
on  with  him  as  your  brother  does.  He  must  have 
a  perfect  temper." 


114  IN   WAR  TIME. 

Ann's  face  flushed  with  honest  delight.  "No 
one,"  she  said,  "knows  how  good  he  is."  Then 
her  heart  opened  to  this  woman  who  so  intelli- 
gently appreciated  the  brother.  "It  is  such  a 
pleasure  for  me  to  feel  that  he  is  living  where  he 
has  a  chance  to  show  what  he  is ;  and  you  know  I 
could  n't  expect  every  one  to  feel  just  as  I  do  about 
him." 

"But  you  see  you  were  wrong,"  returned  Mrs. 
Westerley;  and  then,  knowing  that  she  had  per- 
haps dwelt  quite  enough  on  Dr.  Wendell,  she  added, 
"  And  how  good  he  is  to  the  child !  It  must  be 
rather  a  grave  business  to  have  a  girl  suddenly 
left  on  your  hands.  Let  me  say,  once  for  all,  that 
if  in  any  way  I  can  help  you  about  Hester,  you 
must  come  to  me  without  hesitation.  Will  you, 
now  ?  "  and  she  took  Ann  Wendell's  hand. 
"  Yes,  I  will,  if  there  be  any  need." 
"  And  you  won't  forget  ?  I  really  mean  it." 
"  No,  I  will  do  as  you  say ;  "  on  which  Mrs. 
Westerley  rose,  feeling  that  she  had  achieved  the 
purpose  of  her  visit,  and  went  out  to  her  ponies, 
with  a  kiss  from  the  child,  who  was  still  at  the 
open  door  with  her  pets  in  the  sunshine. 

Mrs.  Alice  Westerley  lived  in  a  modern  house 
on  one  of  the  lanes  which  border  the  battlefield  of 
Germantown,  and  her  windows  looked  over  the  an- 
cient burial-ground,  where  sleep  side  by  side  the 
heroes  of  that  indecisive  day.  A  few  old  hemlocks 
and  spruces,  and  one  or  two  tulip-poplars,  were 


IN  WAR  TIME.  115 

grouped  about  the  grounds,  which  were  only  a  few 
acres  in  extent ;  but  the  profusion  of  vines,  now 
splendid  in  autumn  colors,  gave  a  distinct  charac- 
ter to  what  would  otherwise  have  been  but  one  of 
numberless  modern  villas,  in  no  other  respect  very 
unlike.  Within,  it  remained  very  much  as  it  was 
when  she  bought  it,  except  that  it  had  acquired 
that  peculiar  look  of  easy  comfort  and  of  being 
lived  in  which  some  women  have  the  art  of  diffus- 
ing through  any  dwelling  they  may  choose  to  in- 
habit. 

Wendell  arrived  exactly  at  the  hour,  and  found 
himself  alone  with  Colonel  Fox,  the  widow  being  a 
little  late,  as  was  apt  to  be  the  case.  Fox  looked 
at  him  with  brief  attention.  He  had  heard  some- 
thing of  him  before,  and  what  he  had  heard  was 
not  altogether  to  his  liking ;  yet  despite  his  precon- 
ceptions, the  doctor's  face  pleased  him. 

"  Dr.  Wendell,  I  think,"  said  he.  "  I  am  Thomas 
Fox,  —  Colonel  Fox,  I  suppose  I  should  say ;  but 
we  Friends  cling  by  mere  habit  to  the  ways  in  which 
we  were  brought  up." 

"  I  like  them,"  returned  Wendell ;  "  but  it  must 
be  rare  to  see  people  of  your  creed  in  the  army." 

"Yes,  it  is  rare,"  rejoined  the  colonel,  simply. 
"  I  am  glad  our  being  both  so  early  gives  me  a 
chance  to  ask  you  about  Morton.  Is  he  really  very 
ill?" 

"  I  would  have  said  so  until  quite  lately ;  but 
now  I  feel  less  uneasy." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  and  on  such  good  author- 


116  IN  WAR  TIME. 

ity.  He  made  an  admirable  soldier.  Do  you  see 
any  likeness  to  him  in  the  picture  above  you,  —  the 
one  on  the  left  ?  It  is  Mrs.  Westerley's  great-grand- 
father. Morton  and  she  are  distantly  related." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Wendell,  "  one  would  hardly  sus- 
pect it.  The  major  is  such  a  wreck  that  I  did  not 
know  the  photograph  taken  two  years  ago.  Pain  is 
a  relentless  sculptor.  But  what  a  fine  picture  !  I  see 
some  resemblance  in  the  way  the  head  is  carried." 

"  It  is  a  Copley,  and  the  two  over  the  table  are 
Stuarts,  and  that  on  the  left  is  by  the  elder  Peale. 
It  was  hardly  fair  to  hang  it  near  the  Stuarts.  If 
you  like  good  portraits,  as  I  do,  you  will  fancy 
these,  I  am  sure.  Just  see  how  the  hands  are 
painted,  in  the  Copley !  " 

"  Yes,"  assented  WendelL  "  There  is  character 
in  the  way  the  old  fellow  grips  his  sword-hilt." 

"  They  say  he  was  only  too  ready  with  it,"  re- 
marked Fox. 

"I  can  believe  that,"  said  Wendell,  smiling. 
"  But  really,  we  are  as  unlike  these  people  as  we 
are  unlike  the  English  of  to-day." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Fox.  "  That  is  true  to  some 
extent.  You  must  go  farther  back  for  the  best 
type  of  American  face.  I  should  say  we  are  more 
like  the  English  of  Charles  the  First's  time.  In 
fact,  the  old  Vandyke  face  has  crossed  the  seas. 
You  don't  see  it  in  England.  You  do  see  it  with 
us.  But  here  comes  Mrs.  Westerley !  " 

"  And  of  course,"  said  the  widow,  "  you  were 
saying  that  women  never  are  punctual.  Upon  my 


IN  WAR  TIME.  117 

word,  the  other  world  will  be  a  great  comfort  to 
people  like  myself.  Where  time  does  not  exist, 
punctuality  will  cease  to  be  a  virtue." 

"  Mr.  Wilmington,  at  last,"  she  added,  as  he  en- 
tered. 

It  was  a  pleasant  dinner  to  the  doctor.  The 
quick,  alert  chat  of  the  hostess,  trained  in  many 
varied  circles,  and  knowing  how  to  call  out  what- 
ever there  was  of  good  talk  in  her  guests ;  the  re- 
served, tranquil,  old-fashioned  ways  of  Wilmington, 
with  his  long  silences  and  occasional  bits  of  sar- 
casm; and  the  grave  intelligence  of  the  Quaker 
colonel,  made  up  a  social  atmosphere  in  which 
Wendell  felt  that  he  was  appreciated  and  at  his 
ease.  Had  he  been  a  keener  or  more  accustomed 
observer,  he  would  perhaps  have  noted  the  momen- 
tary attention  with  which  the  colonel's  brown  eyes 
dwelt  furtively,  at  odd  moments,  now  upon  him, 
and  now  upon  Mrs.  Westerley's  mobile  face ;  but 
he  was  too  busy  with  the  happiness  of  a  rare  social 
hour  to  search  for  what  lay  beneath.  Whether  the 
quick-witted  woman  herself  observed  it  was  quite 
another  matter.  Few  things  escaped  her. 

There  was  first  the  news  of  the  neighborhood, 
and  then  the  ever-recurrent  talk  of  the  war. 

"  Do  you  look  for  anything  from  Pope's  ad- 
vance ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Westerley. 

"You  won't  tell,"  replied  the  colonel,  smiling, 
"  if  I  say  I  do  not.  He  is  too  confident,  and  like 
most  of  our  generals  underrates  his  foe,  I  think. 
Lee  is  not  a  general  to  be  underrated,  and  never  so 


118  IN  WAR  TIME. 

little  as  when  beaten.  I  don't  like  these  cats  in  a 
corner.  We  shall  have  to  make  up  our  minds  to 
lose  man  for  man  until  we,  who  are  numerically 
better  off,  have  enough  men  left  to  win  with." 

"  Did  thee  ever  play  poker  very  much,  Fox  ?  " 
inquired  Mr.  Wilmington  without  looking  up  from 
his  plate.  Like  many  of  the  descendants  of  Friends, 
he  was  apt  to  talk  to  those  still  of  the  society  in 
Friends'  language. 

The  soldier  looked  up  at  Mrs.  Westerley,  and 
replied  demurely,  "  I  have  some  dim  memory  of 
having  heard  it  described  when  I  was — well,  rather 
young ;  but  as  a  rule,  thee  knows  it  is  not  largely 
cultivated  in  Twelfth  Street  meeting." 

"  Well,"  continued  the  old  gentleman,  still  peck- 
ing at  the  minutest  amount  of  dinner  on  which  life 
could  be  sustained, — "well,  when  thee  gets  some 
one  in  command  who  can  play  poker,  I  think  Mr. 
Lee  will  have  to  go  home  and  go  to  work." 

"  How  much  better,"  said  Wendell,  gayly,  "  to 
have  a  competitive  examination  on  poker,  open  to 
grays  and  blues,  and  accept  the  result  as  ending 
the  war.  General  Lee  "  — 

"  Pardon  me,  doctor,  Mr.  Lee,"  said  Wilmington, 
gravely. 

Wendell  did  not  care  much  whether  Robert  Lee 

was  given  his  titular  rank  or  not,  and  on  the  whole 

hated  war  talk ;  but  he  returned,  smiling,  "  Thanks ! 

,  Mr.  Lee  will  be  beaten,  as  Colonel  Fox  said,  when 

v    we  make  up  our  minds  to  lose  enough  men  in  drawn 

battles  to  leave  us  at  last  with  more  men  than  he 

can  meet." 


IN  WAR  TIME.  119 

"Well,"  said  Wilmington,  tranquilly,  "that  is 
poker." 

"The  illustration  is  faultless,"  laughed  Fox, 
"  but  it  is  n't  war." 

"  No,"  answered  Wendell ;  "  but  it  is  the  only 
war  a  race  like  ours  can  wage,  when  it  is  fighting 
against  itself." 

"  Do  you  have  all  these  theories  in  camp, 
colonel  ?  "  asked  the  widow. 

"  Oh,  enough,  and  too  many  of  them ;  less  now 
than  we  had.  But  camp  life  is  monotonous,  and 
even  Mr.  Wilmington's  educational  resource  gets 
played  out,  literally  I  may  say,  at  times." 

"  Do  you  remember,"  said  Wendell,  "  what  one 
of  Marlborough's  generals  told  the  London  alder- 
man when  he  asked  if  fighting  was  n't  hard  work?" 

"  No,"  replied  Fox.     "  What  was  it  ?  " 

"  The  general  declared  it  was  n't  very  hard,  be- 
cause they  fought  every  morning,  and  had  all  the 
rest  of  the  day  to  themselves." 

"  Delightful !  "  cried  Mrs.  Westerley.  Her  doc- 
tor was  clearly  coming  on. 

"  Who  can  help  wondering,"  said  the  colonel, 
"  what  the  alderman  answered  !  " 

"  That  is  the  defect  of  most  good  stories,"  re- 
plied Wendell. 

"  I  wish  that  general  could  regulate  our  little 
affair,"  returned  Fox.  "  It  is  one  day's  fighting 
and  six  weeks  of  chasseing  east  and  west.  Still,  it 
can  end  only  one  way,  and  it  would  n't  be  worth 
while  betting  on  as  a  matter  of  chance." 


120  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  I  rather  think  we  have  all  bet  pretty  heavily," 
said  Wilmington.  "  I  've  bet  a  good  deal  before 
in  my  day,  but  this  time  I  bet  more  than  I  liked." 

"Indeed?"  exclaimed  Wendell,  with  indiscre- 
tion, and  rather  astonished. 

Wilmington  looked  up,  with  a  little  of  the  tremu- 
lousness  of  age  in  his  face.  "  My  boy  Jack,"  he 
said.  Then  he  looked  down  at  his  plate,  and  there 
was  a  brief  but  perceptible  silence,  which  the  widow 
broke. 

"  Few  have  bet  more  heavily,  —  few,  indeed.  I 
should  never  have  had  the  courage  to  bet  anything 
as  nice  as  my  friend  Jack  Wilmington." 

Wilmington  looked  up  at  her  with  a  faint  smile 
of  pleasure.  He  smiled  often,  but  never  laughed. 

"  What  I  fear  most,"  said  Wendell,  "  is  that 
when  we  have  conquered  the  South  we  shall  have 
an  endless  guerrilla  warfare." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,"  replied  Fox ;  "  the  American 
common  sense  will  stop  that.  I  don't  fear  guer- 
\/  rilla  warfare.  The  negroes  will  be  the  great  ques- 
tion." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Mrs.  Westerley.  "  It  is  hideous 
to  think  of.  One  can't  but  pity  the  South." 

"  They  should  have  thought  of  that  before,"  mut- 
tered Wilmington. 

"  Unluckily,"  said  Wendell,  "  it  will  be  quite  as 
much  our  business  as  theirs." 

"  Yes,  exactly,"  answered  the  hostess.  "  Oh, 
there  is  one  of  those  horrid  news-boys !  *  Great 
battle  on  the  Potomac,'  of  course.  Shall  I  send  for 
a  paper  ?  " 


TN  WAR  TIME.  121 

**  No,  don't,  my  dear  Mrs.  Westerley,"  exclaimed 
Wilmington.  "  I  try  to  think  as  little  as  I  can  of 
it  all.  In  fact,  I  read  the  papers  but  once  a  week, 
—  on  Sunday." 

"  I  wish,"  said  Fox,  "  that  all  the  editors  could 
be  sent  to  the  front." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  returned  the  widow ;  "  and 
no  doubt  you  would  send  the  copperheads  to  rein- 
force Lee,  and  so  give  me  a  chance  of  seeing  it 
all." 

"  No  indeed  !  A  brigade  of  Mrs.  Westerleys  at 
the  rebel  front  would  be  fatal,"  cried  Fox,  laugh- 
ing. 

/  ./"  I  should  desert,  or  malinger,  —  is  n't  that  what 
/you  call  shamming  sick  ?  "  she  rejoined.  "  Gettys- 
burg was  quite  near  enough  for  me.  I  was  in  New 
York,  and  do  you  know  my  man  John  buried  all 
the  silver ;  and  to  this  day,  if  I  complain  of  its 
want  of  polish,  he  puts  on  an  injured  air,  and  says 
it  was  '  all  along  of  them  rebels,  ma'am.'  I  suppose 
the  excuse  will  last  my  time  and  his !  " 

"  I  heard,"  said  old  Wilmington,  wickedly,  "  that 
you  meant  to  make  Mr.  Lee's  visit  an  excuse  to 
stay  in  New  York." 

"  Now,  that  is  one  of  Helen  Morton's  calumnies ! 
I  know  by  my  own  experience  —  I  mean  that  I 
know  of  myself  —  how  little  one's  friends  are  to 
be  trusted !  However,  I  have  one  consolation :  I 
think  I  have  abused  her  quite  enough  in  the  past 
to  leave  me  with  a  good  balance  in  my  favor." 

"  But  no  one  believes  your  abuse,"  asserted  the 
colonel. 


122  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  And  it  was  n't  true,  then  ?  "  asked  Wilming- 
ton, peering  under  his  lazy  eyelids  with  a  sense  of 
mild  disapproval  at  the  very  comfortable  dinner 
the  Quaker  colonel  was  making. 

"  I  did  not  say  it  was  n't  true,"  retorted  Mrs. 
Westerley,  "  and  New  York  always  is  a  temptation 
to  me." 

"  Then  why  do  you  stay  here  ?  "  said  Wendell. 
"  To  be  able  to  go  where  you  will,  and  to  live  where 
you  wish  to  live,  seems  to  me  the  most  desirable 
of  human  liberties." 

"  Why  do  I  live  here  ?  Oh,  because  I  am  better 
here." 

"  Morally  better  ?  "  asked  the  colonel. 

"  I  decline  to  be  catechised  !  "  she  returned.  "  If 
I  were  as  good  as  Mr.  Wilmington,"  she  continued, 
with  malice  in  her  eyes,  "  I  would  n't  have  to  es- 
cape temptation  by  change  of  residence." 

"  I  knew  my  time  would  come,"  murmured  that 
little  old  gentleman,  remembering  with  sly  satisfac- 
tion that  he  had  been  rather  agreeably  naughty  in 
his  time,  in  many  localities. 

"As  to  Gettysburg,"  she  resumed,  "you  were 
all  of  you  badly  enough  scared,  men  and  women. 
For  my  part,  I  never  believed  Lee  would  get  to 
Philadelphia,  —  never !  " 

"  And  why  ?  "  said  Wilmington,  tumbling  into 
her  trap. 

"Why?"  she  continued.  "Because,  my  dear 
Mr.  Wilmington,  nothing  unusual  ever  happens  in 
Philadelphia ;  and  that  would  have  been  very  un- 


IN  WAR  TIME.  123 

usual,  therefore  it  could  not  happen.     Is  n't  that 
what  you  call  a  syllogism,  Dr.  Wendell?" 

Every  one  laughed,  and  Wilmington  exclaimed, 
"  You  always  were  cross  about  Philadelphia." 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  "  I  like  it,  and  it  suits  me  ; 
but  now  and  then  I  do  incline  to  go  somewhere 
else,  just,  you  know,  to  recover  a  little  my  belief  in 
the  possibility  of  the  unexpected." 

"  Oh,  that  is  too  outrageous ! "  laughed  Fox. 
14  As  to  New  York,  it  is  a  pleasant  casino,  supported 
by  stock  gambling." 

"  And  is  it  true,  Mrs.  Westerley,"  said  Wil- 
mington,  "  that  you  told  Morton   that  bad  New     / 
Yorkers,  when  they  die,  go  to  Philadelphia." 

"  I !  "  retorted  the  widow,  "  Impossible  !  Some- 
body in  Boston  said  something  like  that  about 
Paris.  But  I  always  am  maligned." 

"  I  wish  I  had  said  it,"  returned  Fox. 

"  And  did  it  take  you  long  to  think  of  it  ?  "  in- 
quired the  old  gentleman. 

"  Oh,  really,"  complained  the  widow,  "  I  see  it  is 
full  time  for  me  to  leave  you.  I  was  never  so 
abused  in  my  life  !  "  and  while  speaking  she  arose, 
saying  to  Mr.  Wilmington,  as  the  old  gentleman, 
bowing  low,  held  the  door  open,  "  You  will  take  my 
place,  please ;  and  there  are,  I  think,  some  ma- 
deiras you  may  like.  At  least,  I  have  done  my 
best  for  you!  John,  the  cigars  are  in  the  side- 
board. I  will  give  you  your  coffee  in  the  drawing- 
room." 

Then  Mr.  Wilmington  shifted  his  seat  to  the 


124  72V   WAR  TIME. 

place  she  had  left,  and  the  servant  put  in  front  of 
him,  on  silver  coasters,  four  or  five  tall,  slender, 
antique  decanters. 

The  old  gentleman,  with  his  head  on  one  side, 
looked  through  massive  gold  eyeglasses  at  the  sil- 
ver labels,  and  very  deliberately  rearranging  the  bot- 
tles, filled  his  glass,  and  passed  the  wine  to  "Wendell. 
"  With  the  sun,  if  you  please,"  he  said.  "  A  little 
cold,  John,  this  wine,"  upon  which,  to  Wendell's 
amazement,  he  clasped  the  wine-glass  in  both  hands, 
and  shut  his  eyes  with  a  tranquil  expression  of  such 
utter  satisfaction  at  the  coming  pleasure,  and  with 
so  much  of  a  look  of  devotion,  that  the  doctor  con- 
ceived for  a  moment  the  idea  that  nothing  less  than 
a  thankful  prayer  for  a  good  dinner  could  be  in  the 
old  man's  mind ;  but  presently  he  drank  off  his 
wine,  and  remarked,  "  A  good  grape  juice.  '28, 1 
think.  I  did  n't  suppose  there  was  any  of  it  left." 

Wendell  certainly  found  it  good. 

The  second  wine  was  dismissed  with,  "  I  would 
n't  advise  you  to  take  that.  It  wants  a  good  fin- 
ing, Colonel  Fox." 

The  colonel  was  of  like  opinion. 

"  There  is  no  label  on  this  ;  but  women  take  no 
care  of  their  wines.  Hem,"  he  said,  as  he  set 
down  his  glass,  "  I  remember  that  wine  well.  It  is 
precisely  my  own  age.  It 's  getting  just  a  little 
shaky,  like  myself ;  it  is  smoke  !  No  better  wine, 
Dr.  Wendell ;  do  you  know  it  ?  " 

"I  can't  say  that  I  do,"  said  WendeU,  rather 
puzzled  at  the  appellation.  "  I  know  little  or  noth- 
ing of  wines." 


72V  WAR  TIME.  125 

"  Well,"  remarked  Fox,  "  Mr.  Wilmington  is  a 
good  instructor.  I  advise  you  to  begin  your  edu- 
cation." 

"  But  what  on  earth  is  smoke  ?  "  asked  the  doc- 
tor. 

"Don't  you  taste  it?"  returned  Wilmington. 
"  There  is  no  better  madeira.  I  don't  know  many 
as  good.  A  little  eggshell  woidd  help  it." 

"Yes,  a  little  eggshell,"  repeated  Fox,  with 
equal  gravity. 

"  I  am  glad  you  still  like  it,"  exclaimed  the  old 
gentleman ;  "  the  taste  is  going  out.  I  don't  know 
five  lads  who  can  tell  sherry  from  a  fine  madeira. 
My  Jack  says  he  likes  cider.  '  Likes  cider,'  — 
good  heavens  !  Will  you  take  another  glass,  doc- 
tor, or  a  cigar  ?  " 

"  Unless  you  want  to  be  excommunicated  vin- 
ously,"  said  Fox,  laughing,  "  you  can't  drink  after 
you  smoke ;  "  and  so  the  cigars  were  brought  and 
there  was  more  war  talk,  during  which  Fox  slipped 
away  to  chat  with  Mrs.  Westerley,  and  the  doctor 
was  left  alone  with  Mr.  Wilmington. 

Wendell  very  soon  found  that  any  discussion 
which  did  not  involve  wine  talk  was,  at  this  stage 
of  the  dinner,  quite  out  of  the  question,  and  he 
therefore  wisely  yielded,  and  as  a  consequence  rose 
many  degrees  in  the  old  gentleman's  favor.  What 
he  learned  as  to  wines  it  is  perhaps  not  worth 
while  to  inquire.  "  And  when  I  say  wines,"  said 
Mr.  Wilmington,  "  I  mean  madeiras,  sir.  There  are 
other  drinks ;  but  excepting  now  and  then  a  rare 


126  IN  WAR  TIME. 

claret,  —  a  very  rare  claret,  —  there  are  no  wines 
except  madeira.  None,  sir !  "  said  the  old  gentle- 
man, with  unusual  warmth,  —  "  none,  sir !  " 

He  talked  of  wines  as  people  talk  of  other  people, 
of  their  vices  or  virtues,  their  births  and  decays. 
His  dinners  were  gossips  about  wines.  Such  was 
the  fashion  of  his  day,  and  he  and  a  very  few  old 
friends  held  to  it  with  the  tenacity  of  age.  The 
friends  were  dropping  fast,  but  the  wines  remained, 
and  through  them  more  than  in  any  other  way 
were  aroused  his  pleasantest  memories  of  departed 
feasts  and  the  comrades  at  whom  he  had  smiled 
above  some  golden  south  side  vintage,  in  days  when 
manners  were  more  courtly  and  healths  were 
drunk. 

At  last,  when  Wendell  timidly  remarked  that 
all  this  care  about  wines  must  take  up  a  good  deal 
of  time,  Mr.  Wilmington  said,  "  Yes.  It  was  quite 
true;  they  were  like  women  and  needed  a  good 
deal  of  attention,  and  that  was  just  why  Morton's 
wines  had  all  gone  to  the  devil.  And  a  very  pretty 
cellar  he  might  have  had,  too,  if  he  had  only  looked 
after  it." 

Sunday  afternoon,  he  added,  he  himself  had  found 
a  good  quiet  time  to  see  to  his  madeiras ;  and,  as 
Wendell  learned  later,  any  Sunday  the  old  gentle- 
man was  to  be  found  in  his  wine  garret,  contem- 
plative and  surrounded  by  demijohns,  and  egg- 
shells, and  what  not. 

At  last,  in  despair,  Wendell  suggested  that,  as 
the  afternoon  was  wearing  on,  they  might  as  well 


IN  WAR   TIME.  127 

have  their  coffee ;  upon  which  Mr.  Wilmington  re- 
luctantly finished  his  glass,  saving,  "  Well,  I  shall 
get  you  to  dine  with  me,  when  Morton  mends.  I 
would  like  you  to  taste  my  pale  heriot.  That  is 
very  high  up,  sir,  —  very  high  up." 

Just  before  they  joined  Mrs.  Westerley,  the 
colonel  had  said,  "  I  do  not  believe  you  were  really 
afraid." 

"No,  I  was  not  afraid.  I  suppose  I  am  like 
your  raw  recruits :  want  of  experience  makes  them 
courageous.  I  can't  realize  the  horrors  of  war. 
Were  you  ever  afraid,  Colonel  Fox  ?  A  stupid  ques- 
tion, I  suppose ;  but  were  you  ever,  now,  really?  " 

"Yes,"  he  replied  softly,  "once  or  twice  —  of 
you." 

The  widow  flushed  a  little,  and  was  glad  as  she 
heard  the  coming  steps  of  her  other  guests. 

"  I  mean  —  you  know  what  I  mean,  in  war,"  she 
said. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  quietly,  "I  have  been  so 
afraid,  Mrs.  Westerley,  I  have  prayed  God  to 
help  me." 

"Oh,"  she  murmured,  under  her  breath,  "you 
are  a  brave  man  to  say  it." 

"  There  are  things  a  man  will  say  to  a  woman  — 
to  some  women  —  which  he  will  say  to  no  man,"  he 
rejoined. 

"  And  you  go  back  to-morrow  ?  "  she  exclaimed, 
hastily. 

"Yes." 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Wilmington  and  Wendell 


128  IN  WAR  TIME. 

entered  the  room.  "  Oh,  at  last,  doctor ! "  she  said, 
"  I  thought  you  were  never  coming.  Won't  you 
ring  that  bell  in  the  corner?  But  here  is  John, 
already !  Coffee,  John,  if  you  please." 


IX. 

THEN  came  the  mild  days  of  the  Indian  summer, 
and  to  the  surprise  of  every  one  Colonel  Morton 
continued  to  improve,  and  was  at  last  sitting  up 
and  riding  out,  to  the  great  triumph  of  his  doctor 
and  the  endless  happiness  of  Ann  Wendell.  The 
doctor  was  also  prospering  otherwise,  and  seemed 
on  the  tide  which  leads  to  fortune  those  who  know 
how  to  take  it. 

With  her  husband's  gain  in  health  there  came 
back  to  Mrs.  Morton  her  old  habits  of  outside  ac- 
tivity. To  him  she  was  always  compliant,  quietly 
yielding,  remembering  his  wants  and  ways ;  in  fact, 
quite  too  much  prone  to  forget  herself,  and  to  exact 
from  all  others  of  her  household  a  like  self-efface- 
ment, where  he  was  concerned.  Years  before,  she 
had  fought  her  battle  for  such  individual  freedom 
of  thought  and  action  as  should  belong  to  every 
woman,  and  had  lost  it,  —  lost  it,  with  the  repeat- 
edly acquired  conviction  that  there  was  for  herself 
and  all  who  were  dear  to  her  less  sacrifice  in  los- 
ing than  in  winning.  Perhaps  she  was  right ;  more 
probably,  as  Alice  Westerley  thought,  she  was  alto- 
gether wrong.  The  widow  detested  but  endured 
Colonel  Morton,  and  it  was  quite  characteristic  of 
her  that,  despite  her  almost  indomitable  tendency 


130  IN  WAR  TIME. 

to  jest  with  and  at  everything  in  life,  neither  with 
him,  nor  with  any  one  whom  she  did  not  like,  did 
she  ever  exhibit  herself  in  her  true  character. 

At  New  Year's  time  the  doctor  was  pleased  to 
find  with  the  check  for  his  account  a  second  and 
much  larger  one  from  Mrs.  Morton,  with  a  note 
which  made  the  little  household  more  than  happy ; 
but  at  the  same  time  he  began  to  see  clearly  that 
he  was  to  lose,  for  a  season  at  least,  his  very  profit- 
able patient.  The  colonel  had  reached  a  certain 
stage  in  recovery,  but  did  not  get  beyond  it ;  and 
Dr.  Lagrange  and  a  far  higher  authority  had  de- 
cided that  he  must  leave  home,  and  avoid  the  ill-hu- 
mored weather  of  the  later  winter  and  the  spring. 
He  hated  the  idea;  but  although  he  knew  well 
enough  that  compliance  was  wise,  it  was  not  in  the 
man  to  yield  without  an  unreasoning  struggle. 

"And  I  am  to  be  carried  about  the  world  in 
search  of  health,  Helen !  "  he  exclaimed,  when  this 
decree  of  his  advisers  was  made  clear  to  him.  "  And 
where  the  mischief  am  I  to  go  to  ?  " 

"  Dr.  Lagrange  says  the  West  Indies  or  Europe," 
replied  Mrs.  Morton. 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  cannot  be  let  alone." 

"  You  could,  my  dear,  but  it  would  n't  be  wise. 
Dr.  Lagrange  and  Dr.  Wendell  both  agree  about 
your  going  away." 

"  Confound  the  doctors !  I  believe  I  should  have 
done  much  better  without  them." 

"  Oh,  John !  " 

"  And  who 's  to  arrange  it  all  ?    And  how  the 


IN  WAR  TIME.  131 

deuce  is  that  poor  devil  of  a  broken-down  Ned  to 
wander  all  over  Europe  ?  " 

"  We  won't  wander,  John ;  and  I  was  thinking 
that  perhaps  —  perhaps  Edward  might  be  willing 
to  stay  with  Dr.  Wendell.  I  have  talked  to  him 
about  it,  and  I  think  it  might  be  managed." 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  so,"  said  her  husband.  He  de- 
tested this  easy  mode  of  removing  the  obstacles  he 
was  placing  in  the  way. 

"  A  pretty  time  Ned  will  have,  Helen,  with  that 
Puritan  old  maid  and  her  self-sufficient  brother !  " 

"  He  has  served  you  well,  John.  You  owe  him 
much." 

"  Oh,  of  course,  of  course  !  That 's  his  business. 
I  hate  all  this  fuss  about  doctors.  It  is  so  thor- 
V  oughly  feminine." 

"  Well,  John,  you  shall  have  it  your  own  way. 
What  would  you  suggest  ?  " 

"  Suggest  ?  I  have  nothing  to  suggest.  It  seems 
to  me  that  I  am  always  the  last  person  to  be  con- 
sidered, in  this  household." 

"Well,  then,  suppose  Ned  should  go  to  Alice. 
She  would  be  very  glad  to  have  him,  I  am  sure. 
How  would  that  answer  ?  " 

"  What,  live  with  that  woman !  Take  care ;  you 
shook  my  knee,  Helen." 

Then  Mrs.  Morton  said,  her  eyes  filling,  despite 
long  years  of  self-control  and  her  knowledge  that  a 
large  part  of  all  this  evil-mindedness  was  the  effect 
of  illness,  "  Well,  my  dear  husband,  we  shall  try  to 
make  it  easy  for  you;  only  don't  worry  me  any 
more." 


132  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  Have  I  worried  you  ?  "  lie  asked. 

"  Yes,  you  have  worried  me." 

"Arrange  it  your  own  way,  then;  but  don't 
make  me  discuss  these  endless  questions." 

"  No,  dear." 

After  this,  Mrs.  Morton  said  very  little  to  her 
husband,  and  went  on,  as  was  her  way,  with  some- 
times a  rather  needless  amount  of  energy,  to  make 
her  preparations  for  a  long  absence  from  home. 
There  were  many  talks  with  Mrs.  Westerley  and 
much  counsel  with  Mr.  Wilmington,  on  whose 
shrewd,  quiet  good  sense  Helen  Morton  greatly  de- 
pended. Then,  as  I  have  said,  her  broken  habits 
of  a  life  of  active  thinking  and  doing  for  others 
had  again  become  possible,  and  as  usual,  whenever 
her  husband  grew  better,  she  began  to  concern  her- 
self anew  in  the  plans  and  lives  of  those  about  her. 
This  had  always  been  her  way.  To  what  school 
her  farmer's  children  went,  whether  they  knew 
their  catechism,  what  the  local  sanitary  commission 
had  been  about  in  her  long  absence,  and  whether 
this  or  that  dependent  wore  warm  enough  under- 
clothing or  not,  were  by  no  means  unimportant 
matters  to  Helen  Morton.  There  was  a  strong  fla- 
vor of  kindliness  in  all  her  forth-putting  life,  but  its 
constant  vigilance  was  sometimes  an  infliction  on 
the  victims  of  her  good  offices.  She  liked  her  own 
way,  and  generally  had  it,  save  only  as  regarded 
Morton,  and,  as  Alice  Westerley  said,  "  She  takes 
her  revenge  on  the  rest  of  us  in  a  system  of  des- 
potic philanthropy."  In  fact,  nothing  but  obstinate 


IN  WAR  TIME.  133 

resistance  ever  conquered  her  combination  of  sweet- 
tempered  interference  and  gentle  good  manners. 
There  was  one  other  rebel  of  her  household,  beside 
her  husband ;  Edward  did  and  said  what  he  liked, 
his  independence  being  largely  due  to  her  own  in- 
tense and  admiring  affection,  now  made  yet  more 
patient  and  tender  by  his  delicate  health.  She 
had  consulted,  in  his  case,  a  dozen  doctors,  and, 
mother-like,  was  pleased  with  none,  because  none 
could  be  found  to  promise  the  impossible ;  so  that 
at  last  she  had  given  up  all  further  effort,  —  a  con- 
clusion rare  enough  for  her. 

"  You  will  kill  yourself,  Helen,  before  you  leave 
home,"  Alice  Westerley  said  to  her,  one  morning. 
The  widow  sat  in  front  of  a  roaring  wood  fire  in 
Mrs.  Morton's  sitting-room.  Her  feet  rested  on 
the  brass  fender,  and  as  she  spoke  she  looked  at 
them,  and  approved  of  them.  They  were  pretty 
feet,  and  were  beautifully  shod,  and  she  very  well 
knew  that  she  had  not  been  alone  in  her  appre- 
ciation. Mrs.  Morton  sat  at  a  Chippendale  table, 
covered  with  papers  and  account-books. 

"  No,  I  like  the  work,"  she  replied.  "  It  enables 
me  to  forget  a  good  deal,  which,  as  I  have  well  ,  , 
learned,  dear,  it  is  quite  wise  to  forget.  Don't  you 
think  it  is  one  of  our  great  miseries  that  we  have 
no  exacting  work  which  we  must  do,  in  the  way  a 
man's  work  has  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  you  need  complain  of  that,  Helen ! 
It  seems  to  me  that  you  have  quite  enough.  If  you 
had,  or  imagined  you  had,  any  more,  you  could  not 


134  IN  WAR  TIME. 

manage  at  all.  For  my  part,  I  hate  work !  I  don't 
like  even  to  sew,  or  do  fancy  work  !  " 

"  I  do  not  see  how  you  stand  it,  Alice  !  " 

"  We  are  pretty  much  alike  as  to  that.     It  tires 

/    me  to  look  at  you.     You  are  never  still.     I  dare 

say  I  think  as  much.     In  fact,  everything  in  life 

interests  me,  but  I  do   not  bother  myself  about 

other  folks'  lives,  as  you  do." 

"  I  can't  help  it." 

"I  really  suppose  you  can't.  How  cold  it  is! 
The  thermometer  was  at  thirty  degrees,  this  morn- 
ing. I  wish  I  liked  cold  weather." 

"  For  me  it  is  the  best  of  all  tonics.  But,  good 
gracious,  Alice,  why  do  you  wear  such  thin  stock- 
ings?" 

"  To  look  the  nicer,  my  dear." 

"  Some  day  you  will  die  of  consumption,  if  you 
are  not  more  careful,"  observed  Mrs.  Morton,  who 
was  given  to  grim  anticipations  as  to  the  future 
of  those  who  despised  her  counsels.  "You  never 
would  take  advice  !  Now  if  you  really  would  con- 
sider it,  I  should  like  to  give  you,  dear,  a  very  seri- 
ous piece  of  advice.  You  would  n't  take  it,  I  am 
sure,  or  you  would  laugh  at  it,  which  is  worse ;  but 
that  you  do  at  everything." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Helen,"  said  Alice,  "  when  one 
has  so  soft  a  heart  as  I  have,  some  kind  of  armor 
is  needful  for  defense,  and  mirth  is  mine.  I  find 
it  very  useful.  And  as  to  advice,  dear,  do  you  ever 
think  that  you  sometimes  may,  in  your  real  good- 
ness of  heart,  give  an  over-dose  of  that  valuable 


IN   WAR  TIME.  135 

drug  ?  I  am  a  little  like  Arty  about  that.  If  you 
advised  me,  Helen,  as  much  as  you  do  that  sweet 
boy,  I  —  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do.  Do  you 
never  hate  a  clock  for  so  persistently  telling  you 
what  time  it  is,  —  I  mean  exactly  what  time  it  is  ?  " 

"  How  absurd  you  are,  Alice !  " 

"Perhaps  so,"  assented  the  widow,  who  was  a 
little  uneasy  as  to  the  possible  nature  of  the  threat- 
ened advice.  "  But  here  comes  Hester  Gray,  across 
the  lawn,"  she  added,  with  a  sense  of  relief. 

"  Yes ;  I  asked  the  doctor  to  let  her  spend  the 
day  with  us.  How  glad  the  boys  will  be !  I  think 
I  never  saw  a  young  girl  I  liked  so  much.  But 
what  a  pity  it  is  that  she  should  grow  up  with  that 
very  definite  old  maid !  " 

"  I  rather  like  Miss  Wendell,"  Mrs.  Westerley 
replied. 

"  You  like  anybody  a  week  at  a  time,"  returned 
her  friend,  laughing,  —  "  anybody !  " 

"And  some,  longer,  dear." 

"Yes;  I,  at  least,  have  no  cause  of  complaint, 
Alice,"  and  she  patted  her  affectionately  on  the 
knee.  "  But,  Alice,  this  child  troubles  me.  I  think 
I  shall  write  to  her  people  in  the  South,  and  get 
Mr.  Stanton  to  send  the  letter  through  the  lines ; 
and  yet  I  cannot  expect  any  answer.  She  is  an  or- 
phan. She  says  that  she  has  no  uncles  or  aunts, 
and,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  is  going  to  be  left  on  the 
hands  of  the  doctor.  I  was  rather  surprised,  last 
week,  when  Morton  asked  me  what  had  become  of 
her.  He  does  n't  interest  himself  much  in  such 


136  IN  WAR  TIME. 

waifs,  as  a  rule.  I  was  thinking  I  might  send  her 
to  some  good  school." 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  not.  But  how  on 
earth  are  you  to  attend  to  it  ?  " 

"  I  thought  I  might  break  it  to  the  Wendells, 
and"  — 

"Break  it!"  exclaimed  her  friend.  "What  is 
there  to  break?" 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  said  Mrs.  Morton,  "  except  that 
Hester  really  must  go  to  school.  I  fancy  the  doc- 
tor has  grown  fond  of  the  child ;  and  as  for  Miss 
Wendell,  she  has  a  genius  for  opposition." 

Alice  Westerley  smiled  a  little.  "That  isn't 
rare  as  a  talent,  but  it  does  n't  often  reach  to  the 
level  of  genius !  However,  if  they  agree  to  it,  I 
will  arrange  the  practical  part  of  it  after  you  leave 
us.  I  ought  to  have  thought  of  it  myself,  I  am 
sure.  You  see  I  do  not  always  reject  advice.  Does 
Colonel  Morton  have  any  feeling  still,  or  did  he 
ever  have  any,  about  that  poor  fellow's  charge  that 
he  shot  him  ?  I  was  thinking  about  it  yesterday." 

"  I  don't  know.  John  is  rather  reticent,  and  it 
is  so  hard  to  be  sure  what  men  do  think !  I  should 
have  no  reason  to  suspect  that  he  ever  felt  it  at  all 
except  for  what  I  just  spoke  of,  —  his  interest  in 
the  girl.  It  is  unusual  for  John." 

"  Has  he  ever  seen  her  ?  " 

"  Two  or  three  times  only,  I  believe,  since  he  has 
been  up  and  about." 

"  It  would  be  a  droll  thing  for  a  man  like  your 
husband  to  entertain  any  such  morbid  idea." 


IN  WAR  TIME.  137 

"  Yes,  I  think  so.  But  here  is  Hester ; "  and  so 
saying,  Mrs.  Morton  raised  the  long  window  sash, 
and  the  young  girl,  glowing  with  the  rough  buffets 
of  a  northwester,  came  in,  and  with  her  a  gust  of 
cold,  frosty  air. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Morton,  it  was  so  hard  to  walk 
against  the  wind !  It  did  blow  so !  " 

Then  both  ladies  kissed  the  girl,  while  her  bon- 
net was  taken  off,  and  the  shapely  little  head 
showed,  with  its  coil  of  yellow  hair,  fast  darkening 
year  by  year,  above  eyes  of  deep  blue,  whose  size, 
as  yet  too  great  for  the  face,  gave  them  a  look  of 
unnatural  attentiveness. 

"  How  you  grow,  child !  "  said  Mrs.  Westerley. 

Hester,  like  most  children,  had  heard  this  remark 
before.  "Yes,"  she  said;  "but  Dr.  Wendell  says 
that  I  ought  soon  to  grow  sideways,  too,  and  Miss 
Ann  thinks  I  must  have  longer  gowns.  Do  you 
think  they  are  too  short,  Mrs.  Morton  ?  They  are 
awfully  in  my  way  now,  when  I  climb  trees  or 
coast." 

"  They  are  not  one  bit  too  short,"  remarked  the 
widow,  cheerfully,  wishing  she  too  could  go  coast- 
ing. 

"And  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Morton,  "that  Miss 
Ann  is  quite  right.  I  will  speak  to  her  about  it." 

"Oh,  there  is  Edward!"  cried  the  child,— 
"and  Arthur!" 

"  I  think  I  should  say  « Mr.  Edward,' "  returned 
Mrs.  Morton.  "  Don't  you  remember  our  talk  last 
week?" 


138  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Mrs.  Westerley  smiled,  though  she  made  no 
comment.  The  girl  replied,  "  But  he  said  I  must 
call  him  '  Edward.'  " 

"  You  must  n't  mind  what  young  men  say,  my 
dear,  and  —  What  do  you  want,  boys?  " 

"  Oh,"  cried  Arthur,  "  we  want  Hester  to  coast ! 
The  hills  are  grand." 

"  It  is  very  cold." 

"  Oh,  let  her  come,  mother ! "  exclaimed  Ed- 
ward; and  not  waiting  a  reply,  he  said,  "Come 
along,  Hester.  I  can't  coast,  but  I  can  look  on." 

"Well,  if  you  wish  it,  Ned,"  said  his  mother. 
"  Get  my  fur  cloak,  and  wrap  her  up  well ; "  and 
with  this  the  younger  pair  sped  away,  Edward 
slowly  and  gravely  walking  after  them,  a  faint  sad- 
ness in  his  eyes  as  he  watched  their  fleet  move- 
ments. Presently  they  stopped,  and  coming  back 
the  girl  asked  Edward,  "Don't  you  think  if  you 
put  a  hand  on  my  shoulder  you  might  go  easier? 
It  is  very  slippery." 

The  young  man  smiled,  and,  doing  as  she  de- 
sired, said,  "  I  am  like  an  old  man-of-war  with  two 
little  eager  tugs.  Did  you  ever  see  a  picture  of  the 
[/old  Tdmeraire  ?  I  feel  like  the  old  Teme*raire.  I 
will  show  it  to  you,  Pussy."  Then  he  went  on  in 
silence,  while  the  girl's  tender  eyes  turned  up  to 
-/his  at  times  with  gentle,  womanly  consciousness  of 
her  helpful  strength. 

Wendell  had  builded  his  opinions  about  Hester 
better  than  he  knew,  and  was  right  for  wrong 
reasons.  He  believed,  and  truly,  that  the  protec- 


IN  WAR   TIME.  139 

tion  and  advice  of  Mrs.  Morton  were  good  for 
Hester.  He  was  learning  that  the  friendliness  of 
the  lads  and  Colonel  Morton's  interest  were  of  use 
to  her.  Ann  Wendell  found  it  hard,  as  yet  im- 
possible, to  do  more  than  care  for  the  child's  health 
and  lessons.  Love,  and  even  liking,  grew  slowly 
with  her.  A  few,  a  finely  moulded  few,  among 
middle-aged  un wedded  women  have  the  ready  hos- 
pitality of  affection  which  comes  to  many  married 
women  as  a  natural  acquisition.  Most  of  all  is 
this  true  of  single  women  who  live  much  alone, 
as  did  Ann  Wendell,  who  felt  now,  while  she  ac- 
cepted her  new  care,  —  and  a  care  it  was,  —  that 
she  should  at  least  be  left  to  control  it  as  her  con- 
science advised.  Her  sense  of  the  child's  probable 
future  was  definite,  as  Ann's  views  usually  were, 
and  inclined  her  to  train  the  girl  by  endurance 
for  a  life  of  self-sustaining  labor.  Nor  could  she 
see  that  social  sunshine  and  young  companions 
were  necessary  to  the  growth  of  a  nature  which 
had  a  ready  pleasure  in  all  the  pleasant  things  of 
life,  and  which  would  best  get  from  the  summer  of 
joy  the  strength  to  battle  with  such  wintry  storms 
as  life  might  bring. 

The  young  people  went  slowly  down  the  garden 
walks,  halting  a  moment  at  the  sun-dial,  which  for 
a  century  had  kept  noiseless  note  of  time  among 
the  tall,  clipped  box  rows. 

"  Yes,  I  should  like  to  see  the  picture,"  rejoined 
Hester,  "  and  I  will  remind  you,  —  and  what  is 
that,  Mr.  Edward?" 


140  IN   WAR  TIME. 

"  A  sun-dial,  Miss  Gray.  Why  on  earth  should 
I  be  *  Edward '  and  '  Ned  '  yesterday,  and  '  Mr. 
Edward 'to-day?" 

"  Mrs.  Morton  says  I  must  n't  call  you  '  Ed- 
ward.' " 

"  Nonsense !  No,  I  don't  mean  that.  I  will 
speak  to  mamma  about  it.  I  suppose  Arty  is  not 
promoted." 

"  What  ?     I  don't  understand." 

"  I  mean,  he  is  still  to  be  Arty  ?  I  can  tell  you 
I  won't  stand  that !  " 

"  And  did  you  never  see  a  sun-dial  ?  "  exclaimed 
Arthur. 

"  No,  never ;  but  I  have  heard  of  them." 

"  My  grandfather  set  it  here  when  he  came  home 
after  the  war,  and  I  dare  say  Washington  has  seen 
it,  and  old  mad  Anthony  Wayne." 

"  It  tells  what  o'clock  it  is,"  said  Hester. 

"  Yes.     See  !  it  is  twelve  now." 

"  But  when  the  sun  is  hid,  it  can't  tell  then !  " 
cried  the  girl,  triumphantly. 

"  No,"  coincided  Arthur.  "  It  goes  to  sleep  just 
as  you  do." 

"  How  nice  !  "  returned  Hester,  musingly.  "  I 
think  I  like  a  sun-dial." 

"  Non  numero  horas,  etc.,"  said  Edward. 

"Like  Mrs.  Westerley,"  laughed  Arthur. 
"  Come  along,  Hester ;  that  's  Latin,  and  you  have 
no  business  with  it.  I  hope  you  never  will." 

"  Tell  her  your  lines  about  the  dial,  Arty." 

"No,  sir." 


IN   WAR   TIME.  141 

"  Please  do,  Arty." 

"  No  !  A-coasting  we  go  ;  and  when  I  go  a-coast- 
ing,  I  go  a-coasting.  But,  Hester,"  he  said  aside, 
"  some  time  I  will."  The  ready  little  woman 
smiled,  well  pleased,  and  presently  the  two  sleds 
were  speeding  down  the  long  coasting-hill,  where  by 
and  by  Mrs.  Westerley  came,  and  to  the  lads'  im- 
mense delight  was  persuaded  to  try  it  once  with 
Arthur,  and  was  soon  the  youngest  of  the  party, 
until,  as  she  toiled  up  the  hill  glowing  and  joyous, 
she  chanced  to  notice  the  elder  lad  painfully  shift- 
ing his  station  as  he  leaned  against  a  tall  tulip 
poplar,  and  looked  with  a  certain  gravity  at  the 
wild  career  of  the  gliding  cutters. 

"  Not  tired  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes.     I  'm  an  old  woman,  you  know.'* 

;t  I  wish  I  felt  myself  as  young  a  man,"  he  re- 
plied, smiling,  as  he  glanced  with  admiration  at  her 
straight,  active  figure  and  frank  face. 

"  Oh,  we  shall  get  you  well,"  she  said.  '•'  Don't 
think  about  it,  Ned." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  of  course.  I  try  not  to  think  of 
it,  and  sometimes  life  is  so  strong  in  me  that  I  be- 
lieve I  shall  yet  be  as  other  men  ;  but  I  never  shall 
be,  —  never!  And  last  night,  Mrs.  Westerley,  I 
dreamed —  You  don't  mind  my  telling  you? 
Father  says  it  is  bad  manners  to  tell  your  dreams." 

"Oh,  my  dear  Ned,  what  an  old-fashioned  no- 
tion !  Go  on.  What  was  it  ?  " 

"I  dreamed  I  was  riding  into  the  thick  of  a 
great  fight  behind  Colonel  Fox,  —  what  that  dear 


142  IN  WAR  TIME. 

i/ 

old  Kingsley  calls  a  melley,  —  and  shots  were  fly- 
ing, and  I  was  riding,  riding  like  mad,  for  a  rebel 
flag ;  and  then  I  had  it,  and  the  thought  came  over 
me,  as  I  broke  through  the  lines,  '  Oh,  what  will 
mother  say  now  ! '  And  then  I  woke  and  —  my 
God,  I  cried  !  " 

"  And  you  have  made  me  cry,  too,  Ned.  I  wish 
I  could  help  you !  But  perhaps  God  has  other 
work  for  you  in  life  than  this  ;  who  knows,  Ned  ?  " 

"Who,  indeed?"  he  said.  Then  she  grasped 
his  hand,  dropped  it,  and  was  silent.  She  was  a 
woman  who  thought  less  about  her  words  than  her 
actions,  and  in  whose  life  the  undercurrents  of  ten- 
^  derness  and  reverent  feeling  were  strong,  and  the 
purer  for  the  rarity  with  which  they  came  to  the 
surface. 

Not  the  wisest  sermon  could  have  helped  him 
like  her  few  words,  and  the  man-like  grip,  which 
filled  him  with  a  wholesome  sense  of  being  under- 
stood by  a  nature  as  noble  as  his  own. 

At  last  he  mastered  himself.  He  had  been  afraid 
to  speak.  "  Thank  you,"  he  said.  "  How  you  help 
a  fellow !  Arty,  my  poet,  says  that  you  are  just 
like  the  sun :  you  can  never  see  the  shadows." 

"  Oh,  did  he  say  that  ?  I  shall  kiss  him  some 
time  for  that !  How  well  he  looks  !  I  mean,"  she 
added,  quickly  correcting  herself,  "how  hand- 
some !  They  make  a  charming  couple." 

"I  don't  think  him  handsome,"  Edward  returned, 
"  but  he  has  a  strong  face  ;  and  as  to  that  child,  — 
she  is  just  the  sweetest  little  person  I  ever  saw 


IN  WAR  TIME.  143 

Don't  you  know,  Mrs.  Westerley,  how  sometimes, 
on  bleak  days,  you  wander  into  the  sun,  and  sud- 
denly feel  just  comfortable,  and  you  hardly  think 
why  for  a  time  ?  That  is  the  way  I  feel  when  that 
child  is  about." 

Mrs.  Westerley  reflected  a  little.  «  There  could 
hardly  be  a  nicer  girl,"  she  returned ;  "  but  she 
does  need  a  little  forming." 

"Now  that's  mother,  Mrs.  "Westerley;  that's 
mother  all  over." 

«  Oh,  I  think  so,  too  !     I  do,  indeed." 

"  Bother  the  forming  !  "  said  Edward.  "  Let 's 
go  in  to  lunch.  Now  come  along,  steam-tugs,  — • 
one  to  starboard,  one  to  port !  "  And  laughing  and 
chaffing  one  another,  they  went  into  the  house. 


"  AND  so,"  said  Colonel  Morton  to  his  younger 
son,  "  I  understand  that  you  have  kindly  consented 
to  go  to  Europe  with  us,  for  six  months,  and  that 
then  you  propose  not  to  go  to  Harvard.  How  old 
are  you,  please  ?  " 

"  Eighteen,  sir,  last  March." 

"  And  you  intend,  I  am  told,  in  six  months,  to 
take  command  of  the  Potomac  army." 

"  I  want  to  enter  as  a  private." 

"  Bless  me,  you  are  modest !  " 

Arthur  flushed.  He  and  his  father  were  never 
altogether  in  accord.  The  lad  had  his  father's 
resolute  will,  and  far  more  than  his  intelligence. 

"I  thought,"  he  said,  "until  quite  lately,  that 
you  would  like  it,  sir.  We  have  had  somebody  in 
every  war,  and  I  would  n't  like  to  grow  up  and  feel 
that  neither  Ned  nor  I  had  had  a  share  in  this  one ; 
and  Ned  can't  go,  you  know." 

"Yes,  I  know.  He  has  got  that  confounded 
Irving  constitution,  —  no  stuff  in  it !  What  the 
deuce  do  you  want  to  go  into  the  army  for  ?  " 

"  Excuse  me,  father,  but  why  did  you  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  word,  I  don't  know  !  I  rather  think 
I  was  bored,  in  this  enchantingly  wide  -  awake 
town." 


IN   WAR  TIME.  145 

"  And  you  won't  say  I  must  not  go,  father?  " 

"  No,  you  young  stupid.  Your  mother  will  have 
a  horrible  time  over  it ;  but  really,  I  suppose  it  is 
a  matter  of  breed,  and  I  might  as  well  tell  my 
pointer  Joe  not  to  stand  at  a  pheasant.  The  next 
thing  you  would  go,  whether  I  liked  it  or  not." 

"  No,  I  would  not." 

"  Then  you  would  n't  be  your  father's  son.  Why 
do  you  always  contradict  me  ?  " 

"  But  I  don't." 

"  Yes,  you  do.  What  else  are  you  doing  now  ? 
If  this  war  lasts,  I  will  write  to  Stanton,  or  the 
governor,  and  get  you  a  commission ;  but  remem- 
ber, sir,  no  nonsense  about  going  into  the  ranks. 
There,  your  mother  wants  you  to  drive  her  over  to 
the  doctor's.  Take  Bessie,  and  don't  lame  her,  and 
see  that  she  is  roughed." 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  thank  you." 

"  Oh,  you  need  n't  thank  me !  "  And  the  boy 
left  him,  feeling  half  satisfied,  and,  as  was  usual 
after  a  talk  with  his  father,  a  good  deal  hurt. 

"  He  is  worth  all  the  rest  of  the  lot,"  soliloquized 
the  colonel.  "  I  felt  as  if  I  were  looking  into  a 
mirror." 

Mrs.  Westerley  would  have  said,  and  with  rea- 
son, that  the  colonel  flattered  himself.  Colonel 
Morton  had,  in  fact,  made  up  his  mind,  before  the 
boy  spoke  of  it,  that  he  should  have  his  way ;  and 
that  it  would  be  a  sore  trial  to  the  lad's  mother 
was,  he  also  felt,  perfectly  natural,  but  practically 
a  matter  to  be  disregarded.  If  he  had  been  asked 


146  IN   WAR   TIME. 

why  his  son  should  enter  on  a  perilous  career  at 
eighteen,  he  probably  would  have  said  and  thought 
that  people  of  a  certain  position  were  pledged 
thereby  to  do  certain  things,  one  of  these  being  to 
fight. 

Meanwhile,  the  object  of  his  parental  reflections 
was  driving  Bessie,  in  a  neat  sleigh,  at  a  rate  to 
which  the  father  would  certainly  have  demurred, 
and  at  which  the  portly  mother,  coiled  up  in  furs  be- 
side him,  was  more  or  less  disturbed.  By  and  by 
he  pulled  up  a  little,  and  found  time  to  talk  over 
his  plans. 

"  Father  says  that  you  won't  like  my  going  into 
the  army,  mother  ;  but  you  won't  say  I  must  not  ? 
You  know  I  would  have  to  stay,  then,  and  I  ought 
to  go.  Jack  Wilmington  is  only  a  year  older  than 
lam." 

"  But  he  has  no  mother." 

"  Worse  luck  for  him.  I  have  one  who  knows 
where  a  man's  duty  lies,  in  these  days." 

Mrs.  Morton  felt  this  to  be  a  little  artful,  but, 
nevertheless,  she  liked  it,  and  six  months  made  up 
a  long  time.  Europe  was  far  away,  and  it  is  one 
thing  to  say  yes  for  to-morrow,  and  quite  another 
to  say  yes  for  six  months  off.  She  glanced  at  the 
boy's  side  face,  and,  noting  its  stern  and  powerful 
outline  and  its  look  of  intense  earnestness,  said 
with  some  gravity,  "  It  is  —  it  will  be  hard,  Arthur ; 
but  I  never  disagree  with  your  father,  though  it 
seems  a  great  sacrifice." 

"  But  I  don't  mean  to  be  a  sacrifice,"  returned 


IN  WAR  TIME.  147 

her  son ;  "  not  to  the  Johnny  Rebs,  anyhow. 
Thank  you,  mother,"  and,  leaning  over,  he  kissed 
her. 

"  You  foolish  boy !  you  have  put  my  bonnet  all 
awry." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  the  lad,  well  pleased. 

Then  they  flew  along  the  main  street,  and  Bessie 
was  pulled  up  at  the  doctor's  door. 

"  Send  Hester  out,  mother.  Please  don't  for- 
get !  "  So  presently  Hester  came  forth,  laughing, 
in  a  gray  fur  hood  of  Miss  Ann's,  and  was  whisked 
along  up  lanes  and  by-roads  at  a  rate  which  took 
her  breath  away ;  and  was  told  the  sun-dial  verses 
and  many  others,  and  about  the  war,  which  con- 
cerned her  more. 

"  And  you  might  be  killed  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "I  might,  but  I  won't.  We 
have  had  all  our  ill  luck  already,  and  I  may  come 
back  a  general.  No,  I  don't  mean  that,  but  per- 
haps a  colonel." 

"  I  won't  be  satisfied  unless  you  are  a  colonel. 
I  like  colonels.  I  saw  Colonel  Fox,  and  I  like 
him." 

"  But  I  won't  have  you  liking  any  colonel  but 
me,  —  and  here  we  are  at  home,  again.  Stay  with 
me  till  mother  comes  out." 

"  But  I  ought  to  go  in." 

"  Don't  go  !  I  will  tell  you  stories  ; "  and  the 
young  fellow  whose  fertile  brain  was  full  of  Arthur 
and  his  knights,  and  Roland  and  what  not,  held 
the  little  lady  tranced  in  the  pleasant  country  of 


• 


148  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Romance,  while  within  their  elders  discussed  her 
future  life. 

It  so  happened  that  while  Mrs.  Morton  drove 
over  from  her  own  home,  Ann  Wendell  had  been 
sitting  up-stairs,  with  her  sewing  in  her  lap,  think- 
ing a  good  deal,  as  was  her  wont,  about  her  brother 
and  his  affairs  ;  and  a  good  deal,  too,  of  the  orphan, 
who  seemed  now  to  have  been  left  to  her  care,  with 
little  or  no  chance  that  any  relatives  in  the  South 
would  come  forward  to  claim  her  as  their  own  by 
superior  right  of  kindred.  With  characteristic 
sense  of  duty,  and  of  late  with  a  vague  feeling  of 
jealousy  at  her  brother's  sudden  attachment  to  the 
child,  and  yet  with  a  kindly  desire  to  please  him  in 
this,  as  in  all  else,  Ann  had  set  herself  sedulously 
to  see  that  she  did  not  fail  in  the  face  of  her  novel 
obligation.  At  any  moment  she  would  gladly  have 
been  relieved  of  her  task,  but  it  had  been  put  upon 
her  by  a  Providence,  which  for  her  overruled  all 
things,  and  she  felt  distinctly  that  she  must  answer 
the  call,  and  so  leave  nothing  undone. 

When  she  was  a  teacher  she  had  always  taken  a 
certain  pride  in  the  idea  that  she  had  some  insight 
into  the  characters  of  her  pupils,  and  now  she  had 
framed  rather  in  haste  a  conception  as  to  what 
Hester  was  and  what  she  needed.  The  child's  ac- 
curacy and  exactness  in  her  tasks,  as  well  as  her 
notable  conscientiousness,  caused  Ann  to  think  that 
she  in  some  ways  resembled  herself,  as  in  fact  she 
did,  in  these  especial  particulars  ;  but  Ann  had  in 
her  own  being  no  clew  to  the  tangle  we  call  charac- 


IN   WAR   TIME.  149 

ter,  and  utterly  lacked  capacity  to  unravel  into  dis- 
tinctiveness  of  appreciation  its  changing  web  and 
woof.  The  intelligence  of  each  year  of  growth  is 
commonly  underrated  by  those  who  are  called  on 
familiarly  to  observe  it,  and  very  few  apprehend 
the  zones  of  change  through  which  a  clever  girl,  ap- 
proaching womanhood,  is  apt  to  pass,  or  understand 
that  temporary  displays  of  capriciousness,  or  melan- 
choly, or  irritability  are  only  expressions  of  physi- 
ological changes  consistent  with  general  healthy 
growth.  Indeed,  Ann  looked  aghast  when,  on  com- 
plaining to  her  brother  that  Hester  had  been  unman- 
ageable for  the  last  month  or  so,  he  said  to  her, 
"  My  dear  Ann,  children  have  moral  measles  some- 
times. Only  let  them  alone,  and  they  will  get  well  ^-- 
of  themselves.  There  is  a  wise  herb  in  the  gar- 
dens, Ann,  and  it  is  called  Thyme." 

Ann  felt  that  she  had  not  received  any  very 
great  assistance.  In  fact,  Wendell  saw  one  side  of 
the  girl's  character,  and  his  sister  another,  and  a 
small  one ;  for  this  bright  little  crystal  had  many 
facets. 

Mrs.  Morton  was  marveling,  like  Alice  "Westerley 
when  she  had  paid  her  last  visit,  over  the  odd  lit- 
erature on  the  table.  It  had  changed  a  little,  for 
Wendell  often  haunted  the  cloistral  alcoves  of  the 
old  Franklin  library  on  Fifth  Street,  and  found  a 
pleasure  in  books  which  a  generation  or  two  had 
left  unread  since  James  Logan  had  placed  them 
upon  its  shelves. 

Ann  Wendell,  coming  down  from  her  room,  re- 


150  IN  WAR  TIME. 

ceived  her  guest  quietly.  She  did  not  like  her 
overmuch,  and  was  a  little  in  awe  of  a  woman  who, 
without  quite  knowing  that  she  did  it,  patronized 
her  with  such  supreme  gentleness,  and  yet  with  so 
much  sense  of  never  asking  anything  but  what 
must  be  right. 

"  Won't  you  put  off  your  cloak  ?  "  said  Ann. 

"  No,  thank  you ;  I  have  only  a  moment  to  stay. 
But  —  excuse  me  —  who  does  read  all  these  books, 
and  are  you  a  Swedenborgian  ?  " 

"  No,  I  am  not,"  replied  Ann,  severely. 

"  Oh,  it  must  be  your  brother,  then  ?  " 

"  He  reads  all  sorts  of  things,"  said  Ann,  diplo- 
matically ;  and  then,  taking  herself  to  task  for  lack 
of  exact  truth,  added,  "  My  brother  does  not  go  to 
the  church  of  those  people." 

"  Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Morton,  with  the  feeling  that 
she  had  made  a  false  step,  "I  suppose,  not,  of 
course.  It  is  such  an  absurd  mysticism.  I  thought 
I  should  like,  before  I  go  away,  to  talk  to  you  a 
little  about  Hester  Gray.  You  won't  mind  it,  will 
you?  You  know  we  are  all  so  very  fond  of  her." 

"Of  course  not;  why  should  I?"  said  Miss 
Wendell 

"  I  have  thought  that  I  would  write  to  her  people 
in  the  South,  if  you  liked.  We  have  ways  of  get- 
ting letters  through  the  lines,  and  if  you  think  well 
of  it  I  can  write  to  the  cousin,  Henry  Gray,  of 
whom  she  speaks." 

"I  believe  my  brother  has  already  done  so," 
said  Ann ;  "  at  least,  he  said  that  he  would.  He 


IN   WAR   TIME.  151 

has  n't  much  time  now,  and  he  forgets.  I  ought  to 
have  asked  him  about  it  again." 

"  But  even  if  he  has  written,  it  will  be  as  well 
that  I  also  write." 

"  If  you  please ;  but  I  don't  think  we  shall  hear, 
and  I  begin  to  believe  that  the  little  girl  will  be 
with  us  until  the  war  is  over." 

"  No  doubt  you  must  feel  it  somewhat  of  a  bur- 
den." 

"  It  was  the  Lord's  doing,"  returned  Ann,  "  and 
I  try  to  see  that  it  is  my  duty  to  take  care  of  her." 
She  would  not  say  that  it  was  not  a  burden. 

"  But  still  it  must  be  a  care.  I  think  that  the 
whole  weight  ought  not  to  fall  on  you,  and  that,  if 
it  be  agreeable  to  you  and  to  the  doctor,  I  might 
send  her  to  Miss  Pearson's  school,  on  Long  Isl- 
and." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  replied  Ann,  "  but  I  teach 
her  myself ;  and  if  I  let  her  go  away  I  should  feel 
as  if  I  had  thrust  aside  what  God  had  sent  me.  I 
should  n't  consider  it  to  be  quite  right.  At  least, 
I  don't  think  I  should." 

"But  you  can't  teach  her  French,  or  drawing, 
and  she  has  a  good  deal  of  talent  that  way." 

"  I  don't  see  that  French  is  needful,"  returned 
Ann.  "  I  have  never  found  any  use  for  it." 

"And  yet  she  might,"  said  Mrs.  Morton.  "  And 
then  —  you  will  pardon  me,"  she  added,  with  sub- 
lime indiscretion  —  "but  don't  you  think  that  as 
she  has  been  brought  up  an  Episcopalian  she  ought 
to  go  to  the  Episcopal  church  ?  Now,  at  Miss 
Pearson's"  — 


152  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Ann  flushed  a  little,  and  sat  up  a  trifle  in  her 
chair.  "  No,"  she  exclaimed,  interrupting  her  vis- 
itor, "  what  God  gave,  I  am  responsible  for  to  Him. 
I  trust  that  in  the  essential  matters  of  religion  she 
will  not  be  found  wanting.  You  are  very  kind,  but 
I  cannot  see  it  in  your  way.  However,"  she  added, 
conscious  that  she  was  addressing  not  only  a  very 
kind  woman,  but  a  valuable  patient,  "  I  will  talk  it 
over  with  Ezra." 

And  then  Mrs.  Morton,  put  to  rout,  but  by  no 
means  defeated,  resolved  that  she  too  would  talk  to 
Ezra  Wendell,  and  so  went  her  way  to  the  sleigh, 
out  of  which  the  laughing  Hester  slipped  as  she 
came. 

Mrs.  Morton's  campaigns  were  usually  brief,  and 
in  one  way  or  another  decisive.  She  sent  her 
sleigh  to  the  doctor's  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same 
day,  with  a  note  to  him,  and  desired  her  servant  to 
await  a  reply.  Dr.  Wendell  chanced  to  be  at  home 
when  this  message  came.  The  note  was  only  to 
the  effect  that  Mrs.  Morton  wanted  to  see  him 
about  the  colonel,  and  in  a  postscript  there  was 
added,  Would  he  be  sure  to  bring  Hester,  as  Mrs. 
Morton  had  a  present  for  her,  —  a  fur  jacket,  — 
and  she  wished  to  have  it  tried  on,  to  see  if  it  fitted. 

Wendell  knew  that  he  must  again,  for  the  hun- 
dredth time,  summon  the  girl  from  Ann's  schooling. 

"Ann,"  he  called  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs, — 
"  Ann,  come  down  a  moment !  " 

"What  is  it,  brother?"  she  cried,  tripping 
lightly  down  the  staircase,  and  looking,  as  Wendell 
noticed,  very  bright  and  welL 


IN   WAR   TIME.  158 

"  Why,  Ann,  you  come  down  as  if  you  were  fif- 
teen," he  exclaimed ;  "  and  how  good-looking  you 
grow ! " 

"  It 's  the  good  honest  Yankee  winter  we  have 
had,  Ezra.  But  what  is  it?  The  child  is  at  her 
lessons.  •  I  must  go  back  to  her.  She  does  them 
so  well  that  it  is  getting  to  be  quite  a  pleasure  to 
me.  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  note  from  Mrs.  Morton.  There,  read 
it,  dear ;  and  I  am  really  sorry,  Ann.  I  did  mean 
to  respect  your  hours,  but  I  suppose  this  time  she 
must  go." 

Ann's  face  rarely  betrayed  emotion.  Her  stern 
orthodox  New  England  training  had  taught  her 
such  restraint  of  emotion  as  saved  the  features  ha- 
bitually from  telling  her  secret  thoughts.  What- 
ever was,  be  it  small  or  great,  was  to  be  endured. 
If  there  was  little  laughter  in  her  life,  there  were 
also  few  tears.  But  now,  if  ever,  she  was  very 
angry.  She  saw  defeat  in  the  distance,  and  knew 
that  she  must  yield,  and  somehow  be  made  to  show 
a  semblance  of  being  grateful;  and  she  also  felt 
that  Mrs.  Morton's  note  was  deceitful,  and  for  her- 
self there  was  no  big  or  little  in  this  matter  of 
truthfulness.  These  thoughts  went  swiftly  through 
her  mind,  and  she  hesitated  a  moment. 

"I  should  like,"  she  said,  "to  talk  to  you  before 
you  go.  Mrs.  Morton  was  here  to-day,  and  "  — 

"  But,  sister,"  he  returned,  "  I  have  to  meet  Dr. 
James  in  an  hour,  and  I  must  go  to  Mrs.  Mor- 
ton's first,  and  her  horses  are  waiting  in  the  cold 
We  can  talk  to-night." 


154  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Ann  felt  that  to-night  would  be  too  late. 

"  Very  well,"  she  replied,  rather  shortly  for  her, 
"  I  will  send  her  down  to  you ; "  and  she  went  up- 
stairs, feeling  that  life  was  being  made  quite  too 
hard. 

Wendell  and  Hester  found  Mrs.  Morton  and 
Mrs.  Westerley  in  the  drawing-room,  enjoying  the 
cup  of  tea  which  Mrs.  Morton  well  knew  the  doctor 
liked.  After  a  few  words  in  regard  to  the  colonel 
and  his  coming  voyage,  they  drew  together  about 
the  fire.  Then  the  boys  were  heard  calling  Hes- 
ter;  but  Mrs.  Morton  said,  "No,  I  want  Hester 
myself,  Edward.  Come  back  in  half  an  hour." 

"  And  what 's  up  now  ?  "  asked  Arthur. 

"  Better  ask,"  observed  Edward. 

"  Not  I,  Ned ; "  and  they  went  away  from  the 
door. 

"  I  have  been  having  a  chat  with  Miss  Ann  to- 
day," said  Mrs.  Morton ;  "  a  talk  about  my  friend 
Hester,  here."  The  girl  looked  up,  sudddenly  cu- 
rious, and  feeling  a  new  importance.  "  We  did  not 
quite  agree,  but  I  think  we  shall.  I  am  anxious 
that  Hester  should  go  to  Miss  Pearson's  school  on 
Long  Island.  I  know  Miss  Pearson  well,  and  the 
school  is  all  we  could  desire.  Colonel  Morton  also 
wishes  it,  and  we  both  desire  to  have  the  pleasure 
of  helping  you  and  Miss  Ann  in  this  way." 

Wendell's  heart  sank  within  him.  He  was 
growing  to  love  the  small  person  at  his  side  with  a 
deep  and  strange  tenderness,  the  strength  of  which 
discovered  itself  to  him  now  abruptly,  as  he  heard 


IN  WAR  TIME.  155 

of  the  possibility  of  her  being  taken  out  of  his  life. 
He  looked  down  at  the  child,  and  up  at  Mrs. 
Morton. 

"  Do  you  think  it  really  necessary  ?  " 

"  I  do.  There  are  many  reasons  for  it,  —  many." 
She  did  not  state  them  all,  nor  did  she  choose  to 
do  so.  "However  well  able  Miss  Ann  may  be 
to  teach  her,  there  are  things  which  she  cannot 
teach.  You  of  course  know  what  I  mean.  Then, 
Miss  Ann  was  not  well  last  fall ;  and  even  if  she  is 
better  now,  the  burden  of  Hester's  lessons  will  be 
felt  some  time,  and  then  we  shall  be  away,  and  it 
will  be  past  remedy.  So  you  see  how  desirable  it 
is.  Colonel  Morton  wished  me  to  say  to  you  that 
he  felt  that,  having  in  a  measure  promised  her 
father  to  see  after  the  girl,  he  thought  a  share  of 
the  responsibility  of  her  care  lay  with  us,  and  that 
as  we  can  well  afford  it  we  should  have  some  part 
in  providing  for  her." 

Wendell  was  perplexed.  It  did  not  sound  much 
like  the  colonel. 

"What  do  you  think,  Mrs.  Westerley?"  he  in- 
quired. "  You  will  pardon  me,  Mrs.  Morton,  if  I 
ask." 

The  doctor  was  learning  socially  a  good  deal, 
and  was  a  very  different  person  from  the  Ezra 
Wendell  we  first  knew. 

"  Miss  Pearson  was  my  old  school-mistress,  and 
is  my  friend,"  said  Mrs.  Westerley.  "  She  is  a 
gentle,  high-minded  woman.  If  I  were  Hester,  I 
should  like  it  well.  Don't  you  think  you  will, 
Hester?" 


156  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Hester  had  a  good  deal  of  the  caution  of  clever 
girlhood,  the  outcome  of  intelligence  and  inexperi- 
ance. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  replied.  "I  like  it  at 
home.  Every  one  is  so  kind  to  me  —  and  —  and 
—  you  all,  and  Arty,  and  Mr.  Edward." 

"  Well,  go  up-stairs,"  said  Mrs.  Morton,  "  and 
ask  my  maid  for  a  present  I  have  for  you,  and  put 
it  on,  and  then  go  and  ask  Arty  how  it  looks." 

"A  present?"  exclaimed  Hester.  "Oh,  thank 
you,  Mrs.  Morton !  "  and  left  the  room. 

"We  were  thinking,"  continued  Mrs.  Morton, 
"  that  if  this  girl  has  no  relatives  who  will  help  her, 
and  has  no  fortune,  as  seems  to  be  the  case,  a  sim- 
ple education,  however  sound,  will  be  of  little  use 
to  her;  while  if  she  can  become  an  accomplished 
woman,  she  may  be  able  to  help  herself,  come  what 
may.  Does  n't  that  appear  reasonable  to  you  ?  " 

He  had  to  confess  that  it  did. 

"She  draws  cleverly  now,  and  reads  French 
well.  It  does  seem  to  me,  doctor,  that  a  year  at 
Miss  Pearson's,  with  what  she  could  get  afterwards 
here,  would  be  of  lifelong  value." 

Wendell  felt  that  his  cause  was  lost. 

"  But  my  sister,"  he  rejoined. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  returned  Mrs.  Westerley, 
"that  I  would  see  her.  Mrs.  Morton  is  very 
busy." 

"  If  you  would,"  he  said.  "  I  certainly  shall  do 
all  I  can  to  help  the  girl  in  whatever  way  seems  the 
best,  but  Ann  has  her  own  ideas,  as  you  will  find." 


IN  WAR  TIME.  157 

Mrs.  Morton  was  well  aware  of  this,  but  she 
thought  that  she  saw  her  way  now,  and  was  begin- 
ning to  feel  that  more  obstacles  than  there  was 
need  for  were  put  in  the  way  of  her  kind  inten- 
tions. 

"  I  dare  say  that  we  shall  make  her  come  over 
to  our  side,  and  Mrs.  Westerley  will  see  her.  Few 
people  resist  her." 

This  was  very  much  Wendell's  own  opinion ;  so 
he  thanked  Mrs.  Morton,  finished  his  tea,  and  rose 
to  go,  as  Hester  came  in  with  the  young  men,  look- 
ing rosy  and  pretty  in  the  little  sealskin  jacket, 
which  admirably  set  off  her  delicate  complexion,  in 
which  the  color  came  and  went  so  ceaselessly. 

"  And  you  have  n't  thanked  me,  Hester." 

Hester  kissed  her.  "The  boys  think  I  look 
so  nice,"  she  said,  and  she  turned  herself  around 
for  inspection.  She  was  at  that  formless  age  of 
girlhood  when  the  face  anticipates  in  development 
the  changes  which  yet  are  lacking  in  the  frame  ; 
and  now  the  heavy  cloak  hid  what  was  as  yet  un- 
graceful, so  that  both  of  the  elder  women  exchanged 
quiet  glances  of  admiration  at  the  girl's  appearance. 

Then  Hester  and  Wendell,  after  a  little  laughing 
chat,  went  away. 

"  I  would  like  to  take  that  girl  to  Newport,  in 
two  or  three  years,"  said  Mrs.  Westerley.  "  But  do 
you  ever  think  of  what  a  tempting  little  personage 
she  is  going  to  be,  Helen  ?  Those  boys  of  yours !  " 

"Nonsense,  Alice.  Ned  is  out  of  the  question, 
and  Arthur  will  possibly  be  away  for  years.  I 


158  IN  WAR  TIME. 

should  as  soon  think  of  their  falling  in  love  with 
you." 

"  But  they  both  have,"  affirmed  her  friend,  laugh- 
ing. "  However,  remember  that  I  have  warned 
you." 

"  If  Dr.  Wendell  were  a  little  more  of  a  man  of 
the  world,  I  should  think  you  ran  rather  more  risk 
from  him,  Alice,  than  from  my  boys,"  returned 
Mrs.  Morton,  smiling,  but  regarding  Alice  atten- 
tively. 

"  I  have  seen  enough  of  men  of  the  world." 

"  Oh  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Morton. 

"  Stuff,  Helen  !  you  always  misunderstand  me  ;  " 
but  she  had  a  queer  sense  of  a  suddenly  widened 
horizon  of  the  possible.  What  had  she  said  or 
done  to  justify  such  a  suspicion?  "I  must  go," 
she  said.  "  Please  order  my  ponies." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  vexed  you,  Alice." 

"  Yes,  you  have  vexed  me." 

"  I  did  n't  mean  to." 

"  No,  I  dare  say." 

"  And  you  will  come  over  to-morrow  ?  If  you 
don't,  I  shall  think  you  are  angry." 

"  Yes,  I  '11  come.  We  have  made  too  much  of 
it,  and  I  will  see  that  rosy-faced,  impassive  Ann 
Wendell.  Your  account  of  her  was  immensely 
/  amusing.  How  can  one  live  with  such  a  con- 
science ;  I  think  they  begin  in  childhood,  in  New 
England,  with  girls'  consciences,  as  the  Chinese  do 
with  their  children's  feet,  until  when  they  grow 
up  they  can't  stir,  morally  speaking,  without  dis- 
comfort. I  have  no  patience  with  them !  " 


XI. 

MRS.  WESTERLEY  had  less  difficulty  with  Ann 
Wendell  than  she  had  expected.  She  set  forth, 
quietly  and  distinctly,  the  need  for  an  orphan,  a 
dependent  orphan,  to  have  some  such  education  as 
would  fit  her  to  sustain  herself  when  the  time  came. 
Then  she  sympathized  with  Ann  as  to  the  religious 
aspect  of  the  case,  and  at  last  won  her  somewhat 
reluctant  consent  to  Mrs.  Morton's  plan  of  sending 
Hester  to  school.  Hester  was  to  go  to  Miss  Pear- 
son's, and  she,  Mrs.  Westerley,  would  write  at  once 
to  that  lady  ;  and  here  was  a  check,  which  Colonel 
Morton  wished  to  be  used  for  the  child's  clothes. 
Ann  took  it,  but  did  not  like  to  do  so.  Some- 
how, it  seemed  to  her  like  a  charity  to  her  brother 
and  herself,  and  she  had  the  admirable  dislike  of 
the  hardy  New  England  mind  to  being  assisted 
by  money.  Moreover,  —  and  this  Alice  Westerley 
of  course  failed  to  comprehend,  —  Ann  had  a  de- 
cided indisposition  to  receive  for  Hester  any  favors 
from  Colonel  Morton.  In  fact,  she  kept  saying  to 
herself,  "  How  will  this  child  feel  if  she  ever  comes 
to  know  that,  however  innocently,  the  man  to  whom 
she  owes  so  much  was  at  least  suspected  of  having 
killed  her  father  ?  I  ought  to  think  for  her  now." 
But  her  brother  had  laughed  at  Ann  about  this, 


160  IN  WAR  TIME. 

and  it  was  a  matter  already  ignored  or  forgotten  by 
everybody  but  herself ;  besides,  Ezra,  who  was  in- 
different as  to  money,  had  already  told  her  that  the 
Mortons  expected  to  assist  them,  and  so  what  could 
she  do  but  accept  for  Hester  this  further  kindness  ? 
Nevertheless,  Ann  did  not  use  the  check  until  more 
than  once  reminded  of  it  by  Wendell. 

Mrs.  Morton  felt  easier  after  this  settlement  of 
Hester's  affairs,  and  in  a  couple  of  weeks  sailed  for 
Liverpool  with  her  husband  and  Arthur,  while  Ed- 
ward came  to  stay  at  the  doctor's,  where  a  room 
\S  had  been  made  comfortable  for  him  by  his  mother's 
lavish  care  ;  and  so  a  new  chapter  in  life  began  for 
those  concerned  in  this  tale. 

"  I  shall  be  home  again  in  six  months,"  Arthur 
said.  "  Hester,  you  will  write  to  me.  If  you  don't, 
I  shall  come  back  in  three  months." 

"  Then  perhaps  I  won't  write,  Arty,"  replied  the 
young  lady. 

"  She  won't  have  time  to  write  to  all  of  us,"  said 
Edward,  smiling ;  "  and  I  promise  you  that  I  mean 
to  have  my  share." 

Arthur  looked  up,  and  remarked,  testily,  "  She 
must  write  to  me,  anyhow.  You  are  so  near  her,  it 
can't  make  any  matter." 

"  Halloa,  old  fellow,"  returned  Edward,  "  I  was 
jesting  !  What  makes  you  so  savage  ?  We  don't 
say  '  must '  to  young  ladies." 

"  I  was  n't  savage,"  said  Arthur. 

"  Were  n't  you?  Well,  I  beg  pardon.  We  can't 
have  a  row  now." 


IN   WAR  TIME.  161 

"  No,  brother." 

"  And  I  will  write  a  little  to  both,"  promised 
Hester,  —  "if  I  may,  you  know." 

Then  Edward  said  good-by,  and  Arthur  followed 
Hester  alone  to  the  door.  "  Good-by,"  he  said. 
"  Don't  forget  me,"  and  he  kissed  the  hand  he  yet 
detained  in  his  own.  The  girl  reddened.  She  was 
a  little  startled  by  his  passionate  manner. 

"  I  won't  forget  you,  Arty  ; "  and  she  went  away 
with  a  strong  feeling  of  sorrow  at  parting,  and  with 
an  odd  and  novel  sense  of  a  secret  between  Arty 
and  herself,  —  some  half -felt  idea  that  he  had  been 
pleasant  to  her,  and  that  he  had  kissed  her  hand 
like  a  knight,  and  that  it  was  n't  a  thing  she  would 
tell. 

The  short  time  which  elapsed  between  the  sailing 
of  the  Mortons  and  Hester's  departure  for  school 
was  very  delightful  to  Edward.  He  moved  about 
with  difficulty,  but  nevertheless  it  was  a  new  pleas- 
ure to  drive  Hester  across  the  park,  or  up  through 
the  lanes  to  Chestnut  Hill.  It  was  also  something 
to  escape  the  trying  atmosphere  of  home,  and, 
though  he  did  not  realize  it  in  thought,  from  his 
mother's  too  remindful  care  and  his  father's  con- 
stant discontent  with  life.  He  found  the  Wendells 
very  pleasant.  Men  who  are  abruptly  shut  off 
from  active  life  turn  instinctively  for  aid  to  women, 
and  in  Miss  Wendell  Edward  discovered  a  kind  of 
helpfulness  different  from  that  which  Mrs.  Wes- 
terley  gave,  and  yet  as  valuable.  Ann  liked  the 
manly,  enduring  young  fellow,  with  his  broad,  gaunt 


162  IN   WAR   TIME. 

form  and  the  soft  voice  which  was  always  coming 
at  right  moments  to  soothe  or  sustain,  or  decoy  her 
into  a  smile.  The  broken  life  of  this  young  athlete 
moved  her  strangely,  perhaps  because  she  was  and 
felt  herself  in  a  woman's  sense  competent  for  any- 
thing in  the  work  of  life,  and  was  now  awed  to  see 
in  a  man  a  like  competence  suddenly  destroyed. 
Yet  it  is  doubtful  if  she  would  have  felt  thus  for  a 
young  woman.  Certainly,  not  so  deeply ;  and  in- 
deed, as  a  rule,  she  somewhat  despised  sick  women. 

She  found  errands  for  Edward  to  do,  and  knew 
with  feminine  clearness  when  he  wanted  a  wood 
fire  and  loneliness.  She  soon  said,  "  I  just  do  like 
to  have  that  boy  around."  A  servant  came  daily, 
and  did  what  Edward  desired ;  but  Ann  had  de- 
clined to  have  another  man  to  stay  in  the  house. 
"Three?"  she  declared.  "I  couldn't  stand 
that!" 

Wendell,  too,  the  young  man  found  pleasant. 
The  deficiencies  of  the  doctor's  nature  were  seen 
but  by  few,  and  rarely  in  the  visible  life  of  society 
or  of  his  profession.  If  certain  people  did  not 
quite  like  him,  they  had  often  to  confess  that  they 
hardly  knew  why,  and  he  was  commonly  described 
as  a  bright  and  intelligent  companion  and  wonder- 
fully learned  in  many  ways.  This  was  all  true. 
Some  people  make  admirable,  indeed  delightful 
acquaintances,  and  are  gifted  with  the  camaraderie 
of  the  minute,  but  have  no  capacity  for  friendship. 
And  there  are  good  friends  who  make  poor  ac- 
quaintances. As  to  Wendell,  he  liked  many  people 


7^V  WAR  TIME.  163 

easily,  but  not  deeply,  and  at  present  was  enter- 
tained with  the  young  man,  who  promised  to  re- 
lieve what  he  sometimes  felt  was  a  growing  narrow- 
ness in  his  life  with  Ann.  He  craved  sympathy 
in  his  pursuits,  and  desired,  as  some  men  do,  that 
they  should  interest  every  one.  Ann  had  discov- 
ered this,  but  perhaps  her  interest  was  a  little  for- 
mal in  its  outward  expression ;  at  all  events,  Ed- 
ward seemed  to  be  a  much  more  promising  auditor, 
and  a  fresh  one. 

Out  of  it  came  a  wholesomer  existence  for  Ed- 
ward Morton.  His  young  life  at  school,  where  he 
learned  nothing  and  would  learn  nothing,  was 
broken,  when  he  was  fifteen,  by  his  father,  who  in  a 
rage  sent  him  to  expend  his  wild  energies  on  a  cat- 
tle ranch  in  Texas,  with  Mrs.  Morton's  brother. 
There  he  rode  and  hunted,  and  was  shot  at  by  In- 
dians, until  some  time  after  the  death  of  the  uncle, 
whose  heir  he  became,  when  the  outbreak  of  trea- 
son in  Texas  sent  him  home  in  haste.  His  escape 
had  been  perilous,  and  in  the  long  exposures  which 
accompanied  it  he  probably  acquired  the  malady 
which  had  left  him  but  a  sad  on-looker  in  a  world 
where  nature  had  meant  him  to  play  a  prominent 
part.  But  now  he  was  left  without  resources.  To 
shoot,  to  ride,  to  fish,  to  swim,  were  not  for  him. 

"  Why,  doctor,  I  can't  even  stand  long  enough 
to  play  out  a  game  of  billiards.  I  think  I  see  my- 
self reduced  to  whist,  or  to  the  condition  in  which 
my  father  used  to  be  when  he  got  shaved  twice  a 
day,  because  he  had  nothing  else  as  interesting  to 
do." 


164  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  You  might  make  me  some  jack-straws,  Mr.  Ed- 
ward," observed  Hester,  who  was  coiled  up  on  a 
cushion  at  his  feet,  while  Wendell  gazed  into  his 
microscope,  or  looked  through  a  book  for  some  fig- 
ure to  match  the  awful  beasts  who  wandered  about 
under  his  lens,  and  Ann  sat  busily  knitting,  near 

by. 

Ann  looked  up.  "  That 's  a  good  idea,  child. 
When  my  father  had  been  very  ill,  and  was  getting 
well,  he  used  to  whittle.  It  was  wonderful  how 
quiet  it  kept  him.  He  used  to  whittle  almost  all 
day." 

"  Were  you  ever  at  Bangor  ?"  inquired  Wendell. 
"Down  East  we  call  it  Bangore;  why,  I  don't 
know.  What  my  sister  says  made  me  think  of  it. 
It  is  all  chips  and  sawmills,  and  the  rivers  are  thick 
with  shavings  and  choked  with  sawdust.  I  think 
whittling  must  have  been  invented  there." 

"  We  will  go  there  next  summer,  Hester,  all  of 
us,  and  see  it,"  returned  Edward. 

"  But  you  can  learn  to  whittle  now,"  persisted 
Hester.  "  I  know  how.  I  can  show  you.  Have 
you  a  sharp  knife  ?  " 

"  What  a  child !  "  exclaimed  Edward,  delighted. 
"  A  knife  ?  Six  of  them." 

"  And  you  will  want  some  soft,  dry,  white  pine," 
said  Ann,  "  I  will  see  about  it  to-morrow." 

"  Thank  you.  You  are  very  good  to  me ;  and 
really,  it  is  a  first-rate  notion  for  a  small  monkey." 

"  I  am  not  very  small,  and  I  am  not  a  monkey, 
Mr.  Edward,"  rejoined  the  young  lady. 


IN  WAR  TIME.  165 

"  Well,  a  nice  monkey." 

"  No,  not  even  a  nice  monkey !  I  am  just  Miss 
Hester  Gray." 

"  And  not  Hester  ?  " 

"  Yes,  when  you  are  nice,  I  am  Hester ;  and 
when  you  are  not,  I  am  Miss  Gray.  That 's  my 
real  name,"  she  added,  nodding  her  head. 

Edward  was  amused  at  the  half  earnestness  of 
the  growing  girl. 

"  But,"  said  Ann,  "  you  should  n't  speak  just  in 
that  way  to  older  people." 

Had  Hester  been  her  own  child,  the  reproof 
would  have  been  more  decisive. 

"  I  did  n't  mean  anything,  Miss  Ann." 

"  Then  you  should  not  speak  unless  you  do  mean 
something." 

"  It 's  our  way,"  interrupted  Edward.  "  We 
have  it  out,  now  and  then ;  but  this  engagement 
was  very  mild.  When  we  do  clear  the  decks  for 
action,  you  may  take  care  !  " 

"  I  shall  leave  then,"  said  Ann,  smiling. 

"  And  I,"  added  Wendell.  "  But  just  come  here, 
Edward.  Don't  shake  the  table !  There,  move 
this  screw.  It  is  the  fine  adjustment." 

Edward  looked  and  wondered.  Here  was  a  wild 
world  of  strange  creatures  ;  possibly,  as  to  numbers, 
a  goodly  town  full  of  marvelous  beasts,  attacking, 
defending,  eating,  or  being  eaten :  some,  mere  tiny 
dots,  oscillating  to  and  fro ;  some,  vibratile  rods  ; 
and  among  them,  an  amazing  menagerie  of  larger 
creatures,  whirled  hither  and  thither  by  active  cilia 
too  swift  in  their  motions  to  be  seen. 


166  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"Let  me  sit  down  and  look  at  them,  doctor. 
What  a  sight !  It  makes  my  head  swim.  Have 
you  seen  them,  Hester  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,"  Hester  answered  ;  "I  am  quite  fond 
of  some  of  them.  Do  show  him  the  rhizopod  with 
the  pebble  house  shaped  like  Mrs.  Morton's  Greek 
vase,  uncle." 

"  Hester,  I  told  you  yesterday  that  you  must  not 
call  Dr.  Wendell  « uncle,'  "  Ann  broke  in.  "  It  is 
not  truthful ;  that  is  why  I  don't  like  it." 

"  But  I  do,"  said  Wendell,  laughing,  "  and  I 
can't  have  her  calling  me  *  doctor.'  I  think,  Ann, 
you  are  quite  too  particular." 

"  Have  your  way.  It  is  n't  any  very  great  mat- 
ter." 

"  No,  it  is  n't  any  very  great  matter,"  returned 
Wendell. 

"  And  if  there  are  titles  around  loose,"  said  Ed- 
ward, "  I  mean  to  be  grandpapa.  It  is  a  very 
privileged  position." 

"  I  wish  to  choose  grandpapas  for  myself,  Mr. 
Edward." 

"  Edward,  please." 

"No,  — 'Mr.' Edward." 

"  Well,  it  is  like  a  Greek  vase,"  cried  Morton, 
again  looking  down  into  the  microscope ;  "  and 
how  beautiful  it  is !  " 

"  It  was  found  between  two  wet  bricks  in  a  side- 
walk, by  a  great  naturalist,"  remarked  WendelL 

Edward  still  peered  musingly  through  the  glass. 

"  There  seem,"  he  thought,  "  to  be  a  great  many 


IN  WAR  TIME.  167 

things  I  have  never  seen  or  heard  of."  Then  he 
asked,  "  What  do  you  call  this  fellow  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  fresh-water  sponge." 

"  Goodness !  "  returned  Edward,  "  are  sponges 
alive  ?  Do  I  mop  myself  with  a  beast  ?  " 

"  I  don't  care  about  their  names,"  said  Hester, 
laughing,  — "  they  won't  come  when  they  are 
called;  but  I  like  to  know  their  looks,  and  see 
which  must  be  cousins  and  which  must  be  brothers 
and  sisters." 

"Yes,"  replied  Morton,  "I  should  fancy  that 
might  be  good  fun." 

"  And  then,"  cried  Hester,  "it 's  very  nice  to  get 
a  lot  of  stuff  from  the  ponds  near  Fisher's  Mill,  — 
just  all  along  the  edges,  you  know,  —  and  to  come 
home  and  see  with  the  microscope  what  you  have 
got." 

"  Hum,"  returned  Edward,  "  it  might  have  the 
charm  of  gambling  without  the  cost.  That 's  what 
makes  all  gambling  so  amusing.  It's  a  kind  of 
gambling.  And  how  many  things,  Miss  Gray,  are 
there  in  life  that  interest  you  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Morton,"  she  said,  making  him  a  coquet- 
tish courtesy,  "  I  could  n't  tell  you  in  an  hour." 

"  Then  don't  begin,"  laughed  Edward. 

"  The  child  does  like  a  good  many  things,"  ob- 
served Wendell.  "  But  our  menagerie  is  small, 
now ;  only  a  remnant  of  our  beasts  are  left  in  these 
saucers.  When  June  comes  we  will  go  a-hunting." 

"  It  seems  a  droll  idea  to  get  a  great  bag  of  this 
small  game,"  said  Edward,  "  and  not  know  what 


168  IN  WAR  TIME. 

you  have  till  you  get  home !  Comical ;  kind  of  lot- 
tery, is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Rather  ;  but  you  get  to  like  it." 

"  Hester,"  said  Ann,  glancing  at  the  clock,  "  bed- 
time,—  bedtime,  and  past.  'Early  to  bed  and 
early  to  rise  '  —  and  you  know  the  rest." 

"  But,  Miss  Ann,  would  n't  I  go  to  bed  a  little 
wiser  if  I  might  wait  till  you  read  ?  I  know  you 
will  read  when  I  am  gone." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  that  myself,"  said  Wendell ; 
for  he  had  now  got  his  young  patient  into  the  habit 
of  reading  aloud  with  him,  and  was  wise  enough  to 
lure  him  on  with  such  prose  or  verse  as  he  thought 
would  be  the  most  pleasant  bait.  Some  echo  of 
the  wild  life  he  had  left,  or  some  ringing  lyric 
which  recalled  the  strife  into  which  he  would  have 
wished  to  plunge,  was  delightful  to  Edward.  The 
little  lady,  too,  was  herself  cunning  in  her  choice. 

"  Just  a  half  hour,  Miss  Ann,"  pleaded  Edward ; 
"  and  then  I  will  go  to  bed,  too.  See  how  good 
lam!" 

"  You  all  spoil  her,"  said  Ann ;  but  the  permis- 
sion had  already  been  taken  for  granted. 

"  I  like  this,"  said  Hester,  decisively,  putting  an 
open  book  in  Edward's  hand. 

"  Why,  it 's  that  idiot  Wordsworth !  " 

"  WeU,  but  read,"  said  Hester. 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  he,  "  what 's  this,  then?  '  Bear 
me  to  the  heart  of  France  is  the  longing  of  the 
shield.'  Halloa,  Hester,  that  is  poetry !  I  '11  try 
it ;  "  and  with  a  voice  of  many  tones  he  read  aloud 


IN   WAR   TIME.  169 

that  great  lyric  to  the  tender  lines  at  its  close, 
when,  as  after  a  flare  of  warlike  bugles,  the  large 
silence  is  filled  with  a  song  of  peace,  of  the  sweet- 
ness of  tender  giving,  and  of  kindness  treasured  in 
remembrance  in  peasant  homes  through  centuries 
after.  "  By  George,"  he  cried,  "  that 's  great  verse ! 
No  more  to-night.  To  bed,  Miss  Gray,  to  bed ! 
Please  to  carry  my  candle  up.  '  Quell  the  Scot, 
exclaims  the  lance.'  I  must  learn  it !  I  shall  read 
it  better  next  time." 

"  Did  you  really  never  see  it  before  ?  "  asked 
Wendell. 

"  See  it !  "  repeated  Morton.  "  How  should  a 
Texas  cowboy  have  seen  anything?  This  leaving 
me,  Hester,  just  as  my  education  begins,  is  rather 
rough,  I  think.  But  women  are  all  heartless. 
Good-night.  Ah,  that  '  longing  of  the  shield ! '  I 
think  I  understand." 

This  sort  of  intellectual  contact  was  unknown  to 
Edward  Morton's  previous  existence.  Even  had 
he  been  at  home  he  would  have  seen  none  of  it. 
The  Mortons  read  books,  and  were  reasonably  up 
to  the  day,  and  could  smile  at  Mr.  Wilmington's 
mislaid  Addisonian  quotations ;  but  the  true  book- 
life  they  knew  not.  Books  were  in,  but  not  of, 
their  lives,  whereas  Wendell  was  an  absorber  of 
books,  and  honestly  loved  the  old  literature,  while 
Hester  was  quickly  showing,  in  this  genial  air,  that 
curious,  keen  zest  for  all  printed  matter  which  her 
friend  Arthur  also  had,  and  which  sets  a  boy  or  a 
girl  to  browsing  along  book-shelves,  as  deep  to-day 


170  IN  WAR  TIME. 

in  an  almanac  as  tomorrow  in  Grote  or  Gibbon. 
Even  Ann,  who  read  least,  had  her  literary  likings 
and  fought  for  them,  and  they  talked  about  books 
with  unaffected  interest,  fictitious  characters  afford- 
ing them  such  cheerful  gossip  as  Morton  heard  else- 
where about  servants  and  children. 

Little  by  little,  as  has  chanced  before  to  many 
an  invalid,  there  opened  thus  to  the  stranded  man 
a  new  and  strange  world.  In  health  he  could  never 
have  known  it.  Now,  by  degrees,  its  men  and 
women  were  forced  upon  his  acquaintance,  and,  like 
some  obligatory  acquaintanceships,  grew  pleasant  as 
V  he  became  accustomed  to  them.  But  it  seemed  very 
odd  to  him  to  be,  as  he  felt  it,  leaving  one  world 
and  pleasantly  entering  another.  As  time  moved 
on,  however,  he  learned  how  wholesome  for  his 
troubled  being  were  these  novel  interests,  to  which, 
after  Hester  left,  he  began  to  turn  still  more  eagerly. 
It  was  clear  to  Alice  Westerley  that  new  and  grate- 
ful occupations  were  finding  a  place  in  the  young 
man's  life,  and  to  talk  of  them  began  to  make  a 
part  of  the  frequent  chats  with  the  widow,  which 
were  a  portion  of  the  limited  happiness  of  his  pres- 
ent very  quiet  days. 

And  so  the  winter  sped  away,  and  there  were 
genial  letters  from  Arthur,  who  was  in  France,  and 
busy  endeavoring  to  determine  the  whereabouts  of 
the  field  of  Roncesvalles.  The  colonel  was  mend- 
ing, as  Dr.  Lagrange  had  predicted ;  but  despite 
this  Mrs.  Morton's  letters  were  not  very  happy. 
At  that  time  Confederate  heroes  were  rather  the 


IN  WAR  TIME.  171 

rage  in  Europe  among  the  mongrel  English  who 
lived  on  the  Continent,  but  nevertheless  the  colonel 
was  a  social  success.  He  always  had  been  and  al- 
ways would  be,  and  as  a  rich  American  was  agree- 
ably received  everywhere,  especially  by  the  Italian 
princes  and  French  counts,  for  whom  there  were 
and  are  but  two  classes  of  Americans,  —  the  poor 
and  the  rich.  Besides,  Morton  was  calmly  indiffer- 
ent, and  neither  wanted  nor  sought  any  one ;  and 
this,  to  the  better  class  of  English,  is  always  more 
or  less  a  social  shibboleth.  The  colonel  was  thus 
in  a  measure  courted,  and  on  the  whole  liked  the 
idle  life  about  him. 

His  wife  did  not.  She  was  a  very  considerable 
personage  at  home,  and  abroad  she  was  "  that  large 
woman,"  "  very  nice,  you  know,"  "  the  wife  of  that 
distinguished-looking  American."  Nor  was  Arthur 
any  better  pleased.  Being  tall  and  sturdy,  he  had 
been  asked  by  a  Frenchman  how  it  came  that  he 
was  in  Europe,  when  it  was  said  that  in  his  country 
even  the  boys  were  in  the  army ;  but  that,  perhaps, 
was  in  the  South,  where  there  was  a  sort  of  no- 
blesse, and  "  that  oblige,  you  know,"  at  which  Ar- 
thur was  furious.  Somewhat  later,  as  the  colonel 
got  better,  and  the  spring  opened,  they  had  tried 
England,  where  they  had  many  acquaintances,  the 
product  of  several  visits  abroad ;  but  here  even  the 
colonel,  with  his  easy  indifference  to  political  opin- 
ions, was  uncomfortable,  amidst  the  constant  and 
outspoken  hostility  of  the  upper  class  to  his  coun- 
try, while  Arthur  was  in  one  long  agony  of  ill-con- 


172  IN  WAR  TIME. 

cealed  wrath.  At  last,  in  early  May,  Mrs.  Morton 
confided  to  Alice  Westerley  that  England  was  un- 
endurable. 

"  My  dear  Alice,"  she  wrote,  "  to-morrow  we 
leave  for  the  north  of  Italy,  and  glad  enough  I  am 
to  go.  You  cannot  conceive  what  it  is  to  be  in 
England  at  present.  I  do  not  see  how  Mr.  Adams 
stands  it  at  all.  But  I  suppose  his  position  pro- 
tects him  somewhat.  To  us,  I  can  assure  you,  these 
people  are  anything  but  diplomatic.  And  as  to 
Arthur,  I  shall  be  glad  this  month  to  let  him  go 
home.  Yesterday  he  had  what  he  calls  a  'row' 
with  some  young  Englishmen,  and  having  used 
certain  very  strong  language  is  in  a  rage  to-day 
because  they  declined,  one  and  all  of  them,  to  be 
shot  in  France  —  all  of  which  especially  pleases  his 
father,  who  says  that  the  boy  behaved  very  well. 

"  So  to-morrow,  to  my  great  relief,  as  I  said,  we 
leave  this  land  of  fogs  and  plain  speaking.  Lady 
Jane  asked  for  you  yesterday,  and  Mr.  Melville 
and  the  Veres  have  been  very  civil.  I  will  get  you 
your  gloves  in  Paris ;  and  do  not  forget  that  Hester 
Gray  will  need  summer  dresses. 

"  I  understand  that  Edward  has  taken  to  books 
and  a  microscope !  Really,  if  you  had  told  me  that 
you  were  editing  a  dictionary,  I  could  not  have 
been  more  amazed.  However,  it  is,  I  dare  say,  a 
good  thing.  Poor  fellow!  My  heart  yearns  for 
that  boy,  Alice !  I  think  of  him  day  and  night. 
And  how  goes  our  Sanitary  Commission  work  ?  I 
inclose  a  draft  for  it.  Use  it  as  you  think  best." 


IN  WAR  TIME.  173 

And  then  followed  endless  requests  as  to  the  care 
of  old  servants,  and  what  not. 

"  Helen  Morton  must  be  famishing  for  something 
to  do,"  said  Alice  Westerley,  as  she  came  to  quite 
a  voluminous  postscript. 

"I  reopen  this  letter  to  tell  you  of  a  curious 
thing  which  happened  yesterday.  Colonel  Morton 
came  in  late  last  evening  with  a  gentleman,  who,  it 
seems,  has  called  here  before,  although  the  people 
at  the  Burlington  somehow  managed  to  mislay  his 
card.  Morton  met  him  at  the  Reform  Club,  where 
he  chanced  to  hear  my  husband's  name  mentioned. 
He  is  a  cousin  of  our  little  Hester,  and  is  called 
Henry  Gray,  —  the  relative  she  told  us  of.  Al- 
though a  Carolinian,  he  has  lived  in  Texas,  and  he 
says  that  he  knew  my  brother  Edward  very  well. 
I  should  think  he  must  make  a  sensation  in  Eng- 
lish social  life,  for  a  more  singular  person  I,  at 
least,  have  never  met.  He  is  a  perfectly  rabid 
rebel :  but  you  know  Morton  rather  prides  himself 
on  a  calm  show  of  indifference  about  such  matters, 
—  and  really,  I  suppose,  as  the  child  is  concerned, 
he  is  right  enough  to  pass  over  a  good  deal.  But 
as  to  Arty,  he  left  the  room  in  five  minutes,  as  red 
as  a  peony. 

"  What  this  gentleman  said  was  that  he  had  not 
heard  a  word  directly  about  Hester  ;  which  is  curi- 
ous, as  our  letters  —  and  I  wrote  three  —  were  sent 
to  his  agent  in  Charleston.  Still,  nothing  is  sure 
in  war-time.  He  had,  however,  learned  that  Cap- 
tain Gray  had  died  at  the  hospital,  and  he  had 


174  IN   WAR  TIME. 

written  from  here  to  the  surgeon  in  charge,  and 
had  got  an  answer,  —  pretty  accurate,  you  may  be 
sure,  —  from  Dr.  Lagrange  !  And  now  by  good 
luck  he  lit  on  Morton.  I  hear  that  he  has  made  no 
end  of  money  in  running  the  blockade,  and  that  he 
is  in  some  way  a  financial  agent  of  the  rebels. 
'  A  pretty  acquaintance ! '  says  Master  Arthur,  who 
absolutely  declined  to  dine  with  him  to-day." 
V  ("  I  should  think  so,"  commented  Mrs.  Wester- 
ley.  "  The  idea  of  it !  ") 

"  The  man,  I  ought  to  say,  has  very  good  man- 
ners, wears  a  broad  felt  hat,  and  has  long  hair,  and 
the  smallest,  thinnest  boots  you  ever  saw.  When 
our  servant  helped  him  to  take  his  coat  off,  a  re- 
volver fell  out  of  his  pocket,  and  nearly  scared 
poor  Price  out  of  his  life.  The  colonel,  who  was  in 
the  entry,  remarked  that  it  was  n't  much  needed  in 
London ;  upon  which  Mr.  Gray  said  calmly  that 
he  did  n't  know  about  that,  and  that  '  it  made  a 
man  feel  easy  like.'  Can  you  conceive  of  it,  my 
dear!  And  these  are  the  people  our  English 
friends  look  upon  as  aristocrats,  great  land-owners, 
and  so  on !  Don't  you  wish  they  could  see  some  of 
the  '  gentlemen's  seats '  in  the  South  ?  But  I  must 
not  talk  about  this  any  more. 

"It  is  simply  impossible  to  credit  the  state  of 
feeling  here.  John  thinks  we  shall  certainly  have 
a  war  with  England. 

"  However,  I  am  delaying  to  tell  you  about  what 
is  personally  very  important.  Mr.  Henry  Gray 
has  now  seen  us  several  times.  He  is  so  well  satis- 


IN  WAR   TIME.  175 

fied,  owing  to  what  we  have  said  about  the  Wen- 
dells, that  he  intends  to  place  ten  thousand  dollars 
in  Dr.  Wendell's  hands,  the  income  of  which  is  to 
be  used  for  Hester's  education.  He  very  wisely 
says  that  it  will  be  better,  in  these  times,  to  do  this 
than  to  trust  to  his  being  able  to  send  the  interest 
in  installments.  I  wanted  to  have  the  money  put 
as  a  trust  in  Morton's  hands,  as  I  have  no  great 
opinion  of  our  good  friend  the  doctor's  financial 
abilities ;  but  to  this  John  said  no,  and,  as  usual, 
that  he  had  had  bother  enough  about  the  matter, 
and  that  I  was  too  suspicious,  —  which  was  dread- 
ful, Alice,  because  there  is  no  one  in  whom  I  have 
more  confidence  than  the  doctor.  So  of  course  I 
said  no  more,  and  the  money  goes  at  once  to  Dr. 
Wendell.  And  don't  you  think  you  might  give 
him  a  hint  as  to  getting  Mr.  Wilmington's  advice 
in  regard  to  an  investment  ?  Then  you  might  ask 
Mr.  Wilmington  just  to  mention  government  bonds 
as  desirable.  Now  is  n't  it  all  really  very  nice  and 
generous  ?  " 

Then  there  was  more  about  the  Sanitary  Com- 
mission, and  exact  directions  as  to  how  the  draft  in 
aid  of  it  was  to  be  spent ;  over  which  Alice  Wes- 
terley  smiled,  recalling  the  phrase  which  left  her 
free  to  use  it  as  seemed  best. 

Last  of  all  was  a  slip  dated  Paris,  June  20th :  — 
"  Oh,  Alice,  why  am  I  not  in  that  loathsome  Eng- 
land to-day  of  all  days  !     The  Kearsarge  has  taken 
the  Alabama,  and  I  am  wild  with  joy  I     Arty  said 
Buch  a  clever  thing  about  it  this  morning  to  old  La 


176  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Roque,  the  famous  abbe  who  turns  the  heads  and 
the  religion  of  the  English  girls.  He  is  an  insane 
Southern  sympathizer ;  and  when  he  said  to  Arty, 
4  What  drolls  of  names  for  the  ships  ! '  (he  thinks 
he  speaks  English)  my  young  gentleman  says, 
*  Yes :  one  is  a  Yankee  mountain,  and  the  other  is 
a  slave  State.  How  could  there  be  any  doubt 
about  the  result  ? '  which  pleased  John  immensely. 
This  fight  has  made  the  lad  crazy  ;  he  sails  in  three 
days  ;  and  the  colonel  has  written  to  the  governor. 
So  I  am  to  have  once  more,  dear  Alice,  the  terror 
of  a  personal  stake  in  the  war.  I  feel  as  if  I  were 
tied  to  it  already,  —  there,  that  is  worthy  of  you. 
Ask  Arty  about  his  last  interview  with  Mr.  Gray. 
Don't  forget." 

The  same  mail  which  carried  this  communication 
brought  also  to  Wendell  a  brief  letter  from  Mr. 
Gray,  inclosing  the  promised  draft  and  an  explana- 
tory note  from  Colonel  Morton.  The  former  gen- 
tleman desired  to  be  recalled  to  his  young  cousin's 
memory,  and  hoped,  when  the  war  was  over  and 
the  Confederacy  firmly  established,  to  take  her 
home  with  him  to  Texas ;  and  beside  this  there  was 
little  except  a  warmly  expressed  desire  that  she 
would  always  remember  that  she  was  a  Carolinian. 

Wendell  was  pleased,  amused,  and  a  little  dis- 
turbed in  mind.  He  said  to  his  sister,  — 

"  I  think  it  will  be  best  not  to  show  her  this  let- 
ter at  all  What  does  she  care  for  the  South? 
They  have  been  long  enough  in  finding  out  about 
her,  I  am  sure."  But  he  did  not  say  that  Mrs. 


IN  WAR   TIME.  177 

Morton's  last  letter,  which  he  had  promised  to  con- 
fide to  a  friend  who  was  on  the  staff  of  General 
Meade,  and  through  whom  Mrs.  Morton  desired 
to  secure  its  transit  across  the  lines,  was  lying  in 
his  table  drawer.  In  fact,  he  had  meant  to  send 
it ;  then  he  had  forgotten  it ;  and  when  it  was 
brought  anew  to  his  attention,  he  had  come  to  feel 
that  this  girl,  who  was  now  so  interesting  a  part  of 
his  life,  was  in  a  measure  his  own.  A  deepening 
sense  of  unwillingness  to  be  the  instrument  of  sep- 
arating her  from  her  new  life  overcame  for  a  time 
his  resolves,  which,  at  least  where  his  own  indul- 
gence was  concerned,  were  apt  to  be  weak,  and  thus 
he  had  again  delayed  to  act,  until,  finally,  it  was 
too  late. 

"  I  think  I  would  let  her  see  her  cousin's  letter," 
returned  Ann,  who  was  always  just.  "  Don't  you 
think  it  would  be  wrong  not  to  do  so  ?  Try  to  put 
yourself  in  his  place,  Ezra." 

"  I  will  think  about  it,"  he  answered. 

Ann  knew  very  well  what  that  meant.  Why 
think  about  it  at  all  ?  It  was  clear  enough. 

"  I  would  give  it  to  her  at  once,  Ezra.  I  believe 
myself  you  are  rather  sorry  to  have  anybody  claim 
her.  She  is  certainly  a  very  nice  child,  but  I  can't 
see  why  you  and  Edward  Morton  make  such  a  fuss 
over  her." 

"  Can't  you,  Ann  ?  " 

"  No,  I  cannot ;  and  now  that  she  is  taken  charge 
of  by  her  cousin,  I,  for  one,  shall  feel  it  a  great  re- 
lief from  a  responsibility  and  an  expense  too." 


178  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  But  she  is  n't  taken  out  of  our  charge  as  yet ; 
and  as  to  the  expense  she  has  occasioned,  I  don't 
mind  that  in  the  least." 

"But  you  should,  Ezra.  And  I  do  wish  you 
were  more  thoughtful  about  expenses  !  Even  with 
your  increase  of  practice  we  are  always  in  debt. 
Now  that  new  microscope  :  don't  you  think  "  — 

"  Yes,  I  know  ;  but  unless  I  had  had  it  I  should 
have  been  unable  to  go  on  with  my  work  in  that 
question  of  pyaemia ;  and  you  know  what  Lagrange 
said  about  that  yesterday.  It  is  really  important." 
And  indeed  it  must  be  added  that  he  honestly 
thought  so. 

Ann  sighed.     "  But  you  will  try  ?  "  she  said. 

Yes,  he  would  try.  So  he  kissed  her ;  for  on 
these  occasions  he  had  come  to  regard  a  kiss  as  an 
effectual  means  of  ending  objectionable  debate. 

Nevertheless,  Ann  Wendell  wrote  very  fully  to 
Hester,  and  for  all  she  left  unsaid  the  letter  from 
Mr.  Gray  might  as  well  have  gone. 


XII. 

IT  was  now  early  in  July,  in  the  year  1864,  and 
Mrs.  Westerley  was  full  of  her  summer  plans,  and 
in  a  state  of  agreeable  excitement  over  the  expected 
arrival  of  Arthur  and  the  return  to  Germantown  of 
Hester,  whom  she  was  pleased  to  regard  as  the 
heroine  of  a  little  romance,  and  whose  social  edu- 
cation, she  had  resolved,  should  do  justice  to  the 
promise  of  her  charming  face  and  improving  for- 
tunes. She  had  arranged  with  Miss  Ann  —  who, 
as  she  had  said,  did  not  see  any  reason  for  so  much 
fuss  —  that  her  own  maid  should  go  to  the  school, 
and  escort  Hester  to  Dr.  Wendell's ;  and  she  had 
also  the  intention  of  asking  that  young  person  to 
spend  with  her  a  part  of  the  summer  vacation. 
Then,  also,  Arty  was  to  be  with  her  for  two  or 
three  days.  While  she  was  discussing  these  mat- 
ters with  her  maid,  John  announced  Colonel  Fox 
and  Mr.  Wilmington.  Already  she  had  been  up 
and  down  stairs  several  times  to  see  women  who 
called,  and  she  was  tired ;  but  as  she  never  objected 
to  see  the  men  whom  she  fancied,  she  rose  pleas- 
antly enough,  and  with  a  critical,  if  hasty,  glance 
in  her  mirror  went  down  -  stairs,  looking  at  her 
watch  on  the  way,  as  she  almost  momentarily  ex- 
pected Arthur  Morton. 


180  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Wilmington,"  she  said, 
"  and  Colonel  Fox !  What  happy  chance  brought 
you  here  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  replied  the  soldier,  "  that  it  is 
a  '  happy '  chance,  altogether.  I  got  hit  in  the 
mine  assault ;  not  badly,  but  it  has  made  my  head 
uncomfortable.  I  always  get  hit  somewhere !  " 

"  Thee  's  always  getting  into  trouble,"  said  Wil- 
mington. "  I  heard  thee  volunteered  to  lead  the 
advance.  Why  can't  thee  confine  theeself  to  thy 
legitimate  business  ?  It 's  just  like  speculating." 

The  widow  laughed  merrily,  but  the  old  gentle- 
man was  in  grim  earnest,  and  looked  up  at  her  not 
at  all  pleased. 

"  Oh,  but  Master  Jack,"  said  Fox,  "  that  boy  of 
yours,  he  was  in  a  worse  scrape.  When  the  mine 
failed,  he  volunteered  to  crawl  in  and  relight  the 
fuse.  He  just  got  out  in  time,  I  can  tell  you  !  Do 
you  call  that  legitimate  business  ?  " 

"  And  you  never  told  me,  Mr.  Wilmington !  " 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Westerley.  "  What  splendid  cour- 
age !  " 

"  And  do  you  know,  Mrs.  Westerley,  the  boy 
laughed  when  the  Herald's  reporter  asked  him  his 
name,  next  day.  He  told  him  it  was  John 
Smith!" 

"  Young  idiot !  "  muttered  the  old  gentleman ; 
but  his  eyes  filled.  He  found  himself  obliged  to 
wipe  his  eye-glasses,  and  he  cleared  his  throat  of  a 
sudden  choking  sensation. 

"  I  hear  that  Sheridan  offered  him  a  staff  ap- 


IN  WAR   TIME.  181 

pointment,"  said  Fox,  "  but  Jack  preferred  the  reg- 
iment." 

"  I  should  have  taken  the  least  dangerous.  These 
boys,  these  boys  !  " 

"  And  do  you  know  that  I  am  to  have  Arty  ?  " 
said  the  colonel.  "  He  will  be  my  youngest  lieu- 
tenant." 

"  Oh,  that  is  well !  "  exclaimed  the  widow.  "  And 
you  will  take  care  of  him  ?  " 

"  Of  that  breed  ?  "  cried  Fox.     "  Not  I !  " 

"  Thee  can't  take  care  of  theeself,"  remarked 
Wilmington,  "  it  appears  !  " 

"  What  is  it,  John  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Westerley  to  the 
servant  who  now  entered. 

"  A  telegram,  ma'am." 

"  Oh,  from  Arty  !  Really,  he  has  stopped  to  see 
Hester,"  and  she  read  aloud  :  — 

"  *  Having  a  letter  from  mother  to  Hester, 
stopped  to  deliver  it.'  " 

Fox  laughed.  "  I  suppose  he  could  n't  trust  the 
mails  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  needs  looking  after,  Mrs.  Wester- 
ley,"  observed  Wilmington. 

"  I  think  so  myself,"  she  returned.  "  Indeed,  I 
intimated  as  much  to  his  mother.  However,  he  will 
be  here  to-morrow." 

"  These  Mortons  !  "  exclaimed  Wilmington.  "  A 
fight  or  a  woman  would  stop  them  on  the  way  to 
heaven ! " 

"  Or  to  Mrs.  Westerley's,"  suggested  Fox. 

"  Who  is  a  woman,  please,"  rejoined  the  widow. 


182  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  A  dozen  of  gloves,"  said  Wilmington,  "  that  he 
waits  to  come  home  with  her,  day  after  to-morrow. 
Will  you  bet?" 

"  Not  I,"  replied  the  hostess.  "  I  share  your 
opinion  of  the  Morton  blood.  Luckily,  I  sent  my 
maid  for  the  child.  That  excellent  and  most  obdu- 
rate spinster,  Ann  Wendell,  wondered  why  in  the 
world  she  couldn't  come  home  in  charge  of  the 
conductor.  Imagine  it.  I  never  saw  an  American 
woman  before  who  was  as  little  plastic.  I  don't 
think  she  has  learned  anything  since  she  came 
here." 

"  As  to  social  wants  or  usages,  you  mean,"  re- 
marked Fox.  "  Commonly  the  clever  American 
man  or  maid  changes  easily  enough  as  to  the  exter- 
nals of  social  life." 

"  Ann  Wendell,"  returned  the  widow,  "  changes 
neither  within  nor  without.  I  should  have  to  de- 
spise my  poor  self  or  hate  such  unpliable  people. 
I  suppose  she  is  sorry,  or  laughs  ;  but  really,  if  so, 
it  must  be  all  done  inside.  And  her  dress  is  just 
like  her  face  ;  it  is  never  rumpled,  come  what  may  ! 
Now  is  n't  that  kind  of  person  rather  exasperat- 
ing?" 

"  I  presume  she  must  be  so  to  her  brother,"  said 
Fox,  watchfully  regardant ;  "  but  then  I  fancy  that, 
like  every  doctor,  he  has  all  the  virtues,  and  is  up 
to  the  moral  level  of  standing  any  kind  of  sister." 

"  Now  is  n't  that  a  little  stupid  of  you  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Westerley.  "  But,  stupid  or  not,  I  never  let 
my  friends  be  abused  —  except  by  myself  I  " 


IN  WAR  TIME.  183 

"  But  did  I  abuse  him  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  were  going  to  ;  but  come  and  dine 
here  to-morrow,  and  I  will  forgive  you." 

"  I  will  come.     Seven,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  No,  half-past  six." 

"Well,  I  won't  forget.  And  Miss  Hester, — 
will  she  be  here  ?  Is  she  as  handsome  as  she  prom- 
ised to  be  ?  " 

"  Come  and  see." 

Then  Mr.  Wilmington  talked  about  the  Mortons, 
and  a  little  war  gossip  with  Fox,  and  at  last  went 
away. 

"  Dear  old  fellow,"  said  Fox,  "  how  he  liked  it 
about  that  boy  !  " 

"  Yes,  he  liked  it  well,  and  you  were  very  nice  to 
talk  of  it.  But  tell  me,  were  you  much  hurt  ?  I 
heard  of  it,  but  I  did  not  suppose  that  you  would 
have  to  come  home." 

"  No,  it  was  n't  altogether  the  wound  that  brought 
me.  I  came  partly  to  see  about  filling  up  my 
ranks.  We  lost  awfully  in  front  of  Petersburg." 

"  Will  you  have  any  difficulty  ?  How  do  you 
manage  it,  —  your  recruiting,  I  mean  ?  " 

The  colonel,  quite  pleased,  went  on  to  tell  her; 
and  then  she  questioned  him  further  about  his  offi- 
cers and  the  discipline  of  his  command.  It  was 
one  of  Alice  Westerley's  charms  that  she  listened 
with  natural  eagerness,  and  that  her  intellectual  ,  / 
sympathies  were  real  and  widespread.  Men  were 
taken  captive,  but  did  not  know  why,  and  won- 
dered, as  Fox  did,  how  a  woman  so  trained  to  the 


184  IN  WAR  TIME. 

habits  of  a  class  could  interest,  as  she  did,  men  like 
Wendell,  with  his  microscope,  and  his  queer  ver« 
min,  and  his  musty  old  books.  In  fact,  she  could 
listen  all  day  to  the  doctor's  talk  about  his  profes- 
sion and  his  scientific  pursuits  ;  while  besides  this 
she  had  a  pleasing  sense  of  having  helped  and 
aided  him,  and  liked  his  way  of  coming  to  her  for 
advice  when  he  was  in  any  social  or  other  difficulty. 
She  had  learned,  too,  that  she  had  a  singular  con- 
trol over  his  moods,  and  the  gentle  power  thus  ex- 
ercised flattered  her.  She  had  no  full  means  of 
relatively  gauging  and  contrasting  the  characters  of 
these  two  men,  but  she  liked  both,  and  influenced 
both,  and  had  greatly  assisted  one  of  them,  which 
was,  little  as  she  knew  it  as  yet,  a  somewhat  dan- 
gerous protectorate.  It  was  an  unguessed  secret  to 
Dr.  Wendell,  yet  it  would  have  been  clear  to  Helen 
Morton,  had  she  been  still  at  home,  that  the  man 
who  was  most  ignorant  of  his  own  good  fortune  was 
the  one  her  friend  would  perhaps  prefer,  in  time ; 
and  that  the  quiet,  manly,  unpretending  soldier, 
with  his  strong,  definitive  character,  would  find  no 
such  open  path  to  her  heart. 

Alice  looked  at  him  as  he  rose  to  say  good-by  to 
Mr.  Wilmington,  and  took  in  with  a  woman's  quick 
eye  the  good-humor  of  the  sun-browned  face  and 
the  little  scar  on  the  left  temple,  and  saw  that  he 
still  carried  his  arm  thrust  in  his  half-buttoned 
coat ;  disliking  the  sling,  which  would  have  marked 
him  as  a  wounded  man,  and  singled  him  out  for 
remark  and  attention.  She  well  knew  that  the  man 


IN   WAR   TIME.  185 

who  now  sat  so  quietly  talking  to  her  was  renowned 
in  war  as  a  relentless  disciplinarian,  and  as  a  sol- 
dier gallant  beyond  what  was  common  even  in  those 
splendid  and  terrible  years.  She  was  also  aware 
that  at  home  he  was  trusted  and  honored,  and  that, 
with  a  woman's  tact  and  diplomacy,  she  had  been 
keeping  him  at  a  certain  friendly  distance;  not 
able  to  love  him,  and  yet  unwilling  quite  to  lose 
him  from  her  life. 

They  chatted  pleasantly  of  their  absent  friends 
and  of  the  army,  and  then  she  read  to  him  from 
Mrs.  Morton's  letter  some  of  the  amusing  and  in- 
teresting bits. 

"  And  so  Hester,"  he  said,  "  has  found  a  gener- 
ous cousin.  I  am  very  glad  for  the  child.  I  sup- 
pose now  she  will  have  plenty  of  friends.  And 
after  all,  though  the  Wendells  are  very  good  peo- 
ple, I  don't  think  Miss  Wendell  is  quite  the  person 
to  bring  up  a  girl  who  so  clearly  belongs  to  the 
most  refined  class." 

Mrs.  Westerley  agreed  with  the  theory  of  the  re- 
mark, but  nevertheless,  without  precisely  knowing 
why,  did  not  like  it. 

"  Miss  Ann,"  she  said,  adroitly,  "  is  so  good  that 
I  don't  always  like  to  ask  myself  whether  she  is 
agreeable  or  not.  Few  people  would  have  done 
what  the  Wendells  did  for  such  a  little  waif  as 
Hester."  Then  she  took  a  quite  feminine  ven- 
geance :  "I  saw  her  last  month,  by  the  way,  and 
you  never  could  imagine  the  change  six  months 
have  made.  She  seemed  to  me,  at  first,  too  childish 


186  IN  WAR  TIME. 

for  her  years  ;  but  even  before  she  went  away  she 
was  what  my  nurse  used  to  call  'elder ing.'  You 
know,  colonel,  how  at  sixteen  girls  make  in  six 
months  that  curious  leap  into  womanhood  that 
never  ceases  to  surprise  one." 

"  Yes,"  he  returned ;  "  they  quickly  go  past  the 
young  fellows  who  are  a  year  or  two  older,  or  even 
more." 

"  I  think  Master  Arthur  will  discover  that,  to  his 
astonishment.  I  believe  I  shall  keep  her  for  you, 
colonel !  When  the  war  is  over,  you  will  have  to 
settle  down,  and  by  that  time  Miss  Gray  will  be  a 
pearl  of  pearls.  I  shall  set  about  educating  her 
myself ;  and  as  I  know  your  wants  pretty  well,  only 
imagine  what  a  success  I  shall  make  !  " 

The  return  shot  was  artful,  and  went  home. 

"But  if  the  pupil  is  to  become  all  this,  what 
must  the  teacher  be  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that  was  worthy  of  Colonel  Morton  in  his 
most  devoted  moments.  I  must  get  my  work.  I 
don't  see  how  you  men  can  talk  all  day  with  your 
hands  idle.  That  is  the  reason,  I  believe,  you  are 
always  getting  into  mischief.  'For  Satan,'  you 
know." 

Then  she  threw  a  tangled  skein  of  silk  over  a 
chair-back,  and  began  to  wind  it  on  a  spool,  upon 
which  the  colonel  promptly  transferred  the  skein  to 
his  own  hands,  remarking,  "  I  shall  do  much  better 
than  a  chair,  and  as  I  shall  have  my  hands  em- 
ployed I  shall  be  kept  out  of  mischief." 

Mrs.  Westerley  was  not  quite  so  sure  about  this, 
but  she  said, — 


IN   WAR   TIME.  187 

"  Very  well ;  and  keep  your  hands  quiet,  now, 
and  don't  try  to  help  me.  Men  always  do." 

Fox  wondered  how  many  men  had  gone  through 
this  pleasant  ordeal.  He  might  have  recalled  the 
sad  experience  of  Joseph  Sedley. 

"  I  shall  be  angelic,"  he  said. 

"  And  does  n't  it  hurt  your  arm  ?  " 

"  No ;  my  arm  gives  me  no  pain  unless  I  let  it 
hang  down." 

"  Well,  you  can  rest  when  you  are  tired ; "  and  as  ' 
she  chatted,  her  quick  white  hands  went  to  and  fro, 
carefully  avoiding  his  touch.  She  knew  as  well  as 
he  the  peril  of  the  situation,  but  like  the  larger 
number  of  pleasant  women,  good  or  bad,  there  was 
in  Alice  Westerley  a  coquetry,  which,  to  tell  the 
truth,  she  did  not  always  care  to  repress ;  and  she 
now  comprehended  clearly  enough  that  she  was  tor- 
menting the  man  before  her,  and  was  herself  slyly 
half  enjoying  the  danger  of  the  situation.  Still,  he 
had  brought  it  on  himself.  "  Don't  move  so,"  she 
said.  "  Is  n't  it  like  cat's-cradle  ?  Did  you  ever 
play  cat's-cradle  when  you  were  little  ?  Hester  is 
an  adept  at  it.  I  shall  not  have  to  include  it  in  my 
scheme  of  education.  Then  it  is  like  all  other  learn- 
ing: there  comes  a  point  when  you  cannot  go 
further.  There  should  be  a  book  about  it." 

"  Confound  Hester !  "  he  muttered. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  did  not  hear  you.  Per- 
haps you  were  thinking  that  General  Lee  —  I  beg 
Mr.  Wilmington's  pardon,  '  Mr.'  Lee  —  must  un- 
derstand cat's-cradle." 


188  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"No,  indeed;  nothing  of  the  kind.  Why  do 
you  torment  me  so  ?  " 

"  I  ?  "  she  said,  penitently,  —  "  I  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you,  Alice  Westerley.  You  cannot  really 
desire  to  give  pain ;  it  is  not  in  your  true  nature. 
Or  do  you  think  that  I  am  such  a  fool  as  to  "  — 

"No,"  she  replied,  in  confusion,  interrupting 
him,  "  I  don't.  But  why  are  you  a  fool?"  Hav- 
ing said  which  she  repented.  "  I  mean  —  I  beg 
pardon,  I  don't  mean  —  I "  — 

"No  matter,"  he  returned.  "I  am  a  fool,  be- 
cause I  love  a  woman  who  does  not  care  for  me." 

"  Then  I  would  n't  ask  her  to  love  me." 

"And  why  not?"  The  man  was  strangely 
moved,  and  was  in  fact  shaken  by  the  effort  to 
control  himself.  He  was  afraid,  and  his  head,  still 
troubled  by  his  wound,  swam  dizzily.  The  breach 
and  the  fierce  rush  at  the  cannon  mouth  was  a  trifle 
to  this.  "  Why  not,  Alice  Westerley  ?  " 

"  Because  —  because,"  she  said,  tangling  the  silk 
on  her  long  fingers,  "  she  might  say  No." 

"But  would  she?" 

"  I  think  so,"  and  she  kept  looking  down  at  the 
silk.  Had  she  glanced  up  at  the  pained  white  face, 
his  fate  might  have  been  different;  but  she  was 
embarrassed  and  troubled,  and  held  her  peace,  still 
nervously  fumbling  with  the  snarled  threads.  A 
less  tender  man  would  have  profited  by  her  evident 
doubt. 

"  Would  you  ask  for  a  glass  of  water  ?  "  he  said 
uMy  head  is  swimming  —  I  —  in  fact,  I "  — 


IN  WAR   TIME.  189 

"  I  am  sorry ! "  she  exclaimed ;  but,  happy  at 
the  release,  and  alarmed  at  his  words,  she  hastily 
left  the  room,  to  seek  herself  what  he  wanted. 

"  My  God,"  he  muttered,  "  what  is  life  worth 
now !  How  it  takes  it  out  of  a  fellow ! " 

Presently  she  came  back.  "  Thank  you,"  he  said. 
"  It  was  nothing.  I  am  sorry  to  have  troubled  you. 
I  am  better  now.  Have  you  no  more  to  say,  Mrs. 
Westerley?" 

"  No,  I  don't  think  I  have.  I  have  hurt  you.  I 
wish  you  had  not  made  me  do  it.  When  do  you  go 
back?" 

"  In  a  week." 

"  Then  we  shall  see  you  to-morrow?  "  she  asked. 

"No,  I  forgot.  I  shall  be  too  busy.  Oh,  of 
course  that  is  nonsense,  but  you  understand.  I 
could  n't  stand  it.  My  regards  to  Arty.  Good- 

V 

She  put  out  her  hand,  but  he  had  already  turned 
away.  "  Good-by,"  she  said.  "  I  am  sorry.  .  .  . 
Won't  you  try  to  think  how  much  —  how  sorry 
lam?" 

"  You  can't  be  as  sorry  as  I  am.  I  wish  you 
were.  Good-by." 

Alice  Westerley  went  up  -  stairs  slowly  and 
thoughtfully.  "  Tell  John  that  I  am  at  home  to  no 
one ;  remember,  to  no  one,"  she  said,  as  she  passed 
her  maid.  Then  she  sat  down  at  the  window,  rested 
her  chin  on  her  hands,  and  looking  out  across  the 
shrubbery,  saw  Colonel  Fox  moving  slowly  down 
the  lane.  She  noticed  that  he  carried  a  cane,  and 


190  IN  WAR  TIME. 

was  viciously  switching  off  the  tops  of  the  wayside 
dandelions.  Very  soon  he  was  lost  to  view. 

"  He  is  angry,"  she  thought.  "  I  wish  he  had 
been  angry  with  me.  I  deserved  it.  Well,  it 's  no 
use  to  think  about  it.  I  can't  do  it,  and  there  come 
the  ponies,  and  I  wish  all  the  men  were  dead ! " 
After  which  emphatic  statement  she  drove  to  one 
or  two  shops,  and  then  descended  on  several  young 
women  at  the  local  Sanitary  Commission,  and  as 
vice-president  made  things  a  little  unpleasant ;  and 
coming  out  met  her  neighbor,  Mrs.  Grace,  a  calm 
and  somewhat  subdued  lady,  who  browsed  like  a 
placid  cow  on  the  gossip  of  her  little  circle  of  a 
morning,  and  chewed  at  evening,  in  the  solitary 
companionship  of  her  knitting  needles,  the  sweet  or 
bitter  cud  of  such  mild  stores  of  social  news  as  she 
had  not  yet  digested.  She  had  not  failed  to  see 
Colonel  Fox  as  he  walked  away  from  the  widow's 
gate,  and  she  had  seen  him  when  he  went  in,  and 
the  visit  had  been  long. 

"  I  hear  my  cousin,  Colonel  Fox,  has  come  home 
wounded.  When  does  he  go  back?  So  dreadful, 
is  n't  it,  all  this  fighting  ?  I  am  glad  my  James 
did  n't  go,  or  Tom." 

"  I  know  nothing  of  Colonel  Fox's  movements," 
returned  the  widow,  with  unusual  sharpness. 

"  I  thought  you  might,"  replied  Mrs.  Grace.  "  I 
thought  he  was  a  friend  of  yours,  and  I  had  no  in- 
tention of  saying  anything  disagreeable." 

"I  suppose  not.  People  do  not  always  know; 
some  people  never  know ;  "  but  then,  feeling  that 


IN   WAR   TIME.  191 

she  had  been  rude,  and  being  really  a  kind-hearted 
woman,  she  turned  back,  and  said,  "Excuse  me, 
Mrs.  Grace.  I  did  n't  mean  to  be  so  short,  but  I 
have  had  some  bad  news  to-day.  You  will  pardon 
me,  I  am  sure." 

The  widow  might  have  spared  herself  this  apol- 
ogy, as  the  only  sensation  her  neighbor  had  was  a 
sense  of  being  well  provisioned  for  the  day  in  the 
knowledge  that  there  was  something  between  the 
two  friends. 

As  for  Mrs.  Westerley,  she  smiled  as  she  sped 
away  with  her  ponies :  "  A  vulgar  woman,  and 
hopelessly  stout.  She  must  have  what  Dr.  Wendell 
calls  fatty  degeneration  of  the  heart !  " 


xm. 

ME.  ARTHUR  MORTON  would  have  justified  the 
suspicions  of  the  Quaker  colonel.  He  paid  his 
visit  to  Hester  in  the  presence  of  Miss  Pearson, 
and  was  to  go  home  that  day ;  and  when  was  Miss 
Hester  to  go  ? 

Mrs.  Westerley  was  not  astonished  when  he  tele- 
graphed her  that  he  was  detained,  and  as  little 
surprised  when  he  told,  next  day,  how  pleasant  the 
journey  had  been,  and  how,  of  course,  he  had  felt 
himself  obliged  to  wait  for  Hester,  and  had  left 
her  at  Dr.  Wendell's,  and  had  seen  dear  old  Ned, 
who  was  looking  a  lot  better.  "  And  how  nice  of 
you,  Mrs.  Westerley,  to  have  them  all  here  to  dine, 
—  Hester,  and  Ned,  and  the  doctor!  Miss  Ann 
won't  come,"  he  added.  "  Why  does  n't  she  come  ? 
And  my  colonel,  —  why  is  n't  he  coming,  either  ?  I 
wish  I  had  thought  to  ask  you  to  have  him,  too." 

"  Do  give  me  time  to  breathe,  Arty,"  answered 
the  widow.  "  We  can't  have  everybody." 

"  Oh,  I  just  mentioned  him  because  he  looked  so 
ill.  I  met  him  at  the  station.  He  was  sending  off 
a  squad  of  men,  and  told  me  that  he  had  tele- 
graphed for  his  major,  and  was  going  back  at  once. 
I  'm  off  as  soon  as  I  can  get  my  outfit." 

Alice  Westerley  felt  as  if  there  had  been  a  leaf 


IN  WAR  TIME.  193 

doubled  down  in  her  life  book,  —  what,  as  a  child, 
she  had  called  a  dog-ear,  —  and  now  of  course 
everybody  opened  the  volume  at  that  place. 

"  How  is  your  mother  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Well,  pretty  well.  But  every  one  you  meet 
abroad  now  is  detestable.  No  one  believes  in  the 
North,  and  mother  says  it  is  depressing.  She  de- 
clares that  she  will  not  stay  another  year." 

"  Another  year  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Westerley,  in 
astonishment. 

"Yes.  Father  doesn't  even  talk  of  returning, 
and  I  think  it  will  end  in  her  coming  over  alone 
for  a  while." 

"  Well,  go  and  dress  for  dinner.  And  mind  that 
you  are  very  attentive  to  the  old  gentleman,  —  you 
know  he  likes  it ;  and  don't  leave  him  alone  with 
Dr.  Wendell  and  the  madeira." 

"  Oh,  no,  of  course  not ;  and  as  to  madeira,  I 
have  n't  heard  it  mentioned  for  a  year !  " 

Edward,  with  Hester  and  the  doctor,  came  punc- 
tually ;  but  Wilmington  was  late,  and  Arthur,  of 
course.  He  was  at  the  age  when  time  has  no  value, 
and  seems  as  boundlessly  abundant  as  sand  in  the 
desert. 

Hester  was  in  simple  white,  with  a  rose  in  her 
hair.  She  was  a  source  of  unending  wonder  to 
Wendell  and  to  Edward.  Was  this  tall,  fair 
woman,  with  eyes  like  violets  dowered  with  souls, 
the  awkward  girl  of  six  months  ago  ?  This  amaz- 
ing bit  of  Nature's  sleight-of-hand  seemed  to  them 
incomprehensible :  a  being  child-like  now,  and  pres- 


194  IN  WAR  TIME. 

ently  clad  with  the  well-bred  composure  of  grown 
womanhood!  As  for  Arty,  he  looked  half  dazed 
for  a  moment,  as  she  turned  to  greet  him.  He 
said  afterwards  to  Edward,  in  his  exuberant  way, 
"Wasn't  she  just  like  June  days,  Ned?  You 
could  n't  tell  whether  she  was  child  or  woman, 
spring  or  summer !  " 

In  fact,  as  Colonel  Fox  had  predicted,  Hester 
*  had  gone  past  Arthur,  and  he  was  puzzled  at  the 
metamorphosis.  At  last  Mr.  Wilmington  came, 
and  they  went  merrily  to  dinner.  Mrs.  Westerley's 
dinners  were  always  successful.  She  had  learned 
the  golden  rule  never  to  put  the  stupid  people  to 
entertain  the  clever  ones.  But  to-day  there  was  no 
need  for  her  social  arts,  and  the  party  was  gay 
without  help  from  her.  For  this  she  was  thankful. 
She  felt  dull,  and  was  glad  not  to  exert  herself. 
So  she  talked  quietly  to  Wilmington,  and  caught, 
at  times,  the  bits  of  chat  which  fell  from  her  other 
guests ;  watching  with  the  pleasure  of  a  gentle- 
woman the  effect  on  Hester  of  six  months'  training 
with  a  refined  and  somewhat  accurate  old  lady,  or 
smiling  as  she  recalled  the  social  lessons  of  her  own 
childhood. 

"Sherry,  sir?"  whispered  John  to  Mr.  Wil- 
mington. 

The  old  gentleman  raised  his  glass.  "  Your  good 
health,  Miss  Gray,"  he  said.  The  girl  smiled,  and 
tasted  her  wine.  He  was  perhaps  the  last  of  a 
generation  who  drank  healths,  and  he  never  gave 
up  the  ancient  custom. 


IN   WAR  TIME.  195 

"Good  manners,  that  child,"  he  murmured  to 
Mrs.  Westerley.  "  I  dined  out  yesterday,  and  do 
you  know,  when  I  asked  a  young  fellow  to  take 
wine  with  me,  he  said  he  never  drank." 

"  Poor  fellow !  "  said  the  widow,  much  amused. 

"  And  you  think  I  shall  never  be  a  colonel,  Hes- 
ter ?  "  she  overheard  Arty  say. 

"  Well,  not  never,  but  not  in  six  months,  you 
know." 

"  Arty  believes  that  he  will  be  a  general  in  that 
time,"  laughed  Edward. 

"  I  know  he  would  make  a  better  one  than  some 
of  them,  Mr.  Edward." 

"That  might  be,"  observed  Wendell.  "But, 
Hester,  do  you  carry  bugs  about  yet  ?  " 

"  And  lizards  ?  "  said  Edward. 

"  And  salamanders  ?  "  added  Wendell. 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  laughed.  "  I  am  limited  to  a 
little  plant  hunting.  And  oh,  I  meant  to  tell  you 
before !  I  took  with  me  to  school  —  and  Miss  Ann 
never  knew  it,  either  —  a  jar  full  of  caterpillar 
cocoons,  so  as  to  have  my  butterflies  in  the  spring. 
J  wish  you  could  have  seen  Miss  Pearson's  face 
when  she  saw  them !  " 

"  And  what  did  she  say  ?  "  asked  Wendell. 

"  Oh,  she  said  that  several  of  the  girls  would  be 
butterflies  in  a  year  or  two,  and  that  her  crop  was 
large  enough.  I  could  n't  help  laughing,  but  I 
cried  afterwards." 

"  What  a  horrid  old  maid!  "  exclaimed  Arty. 

"  Not  the  least  horrid.  A  dear  old  lady.  And 
as  to  old  maids,  I  mean  to  be  one  myself." 


196  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Arty  looked  up,  and  murmured  to  himself,  "  That 
will  be  when  I  am  a  colonel,  I  presume." 

"We  shall  take  nets  and  go  after  beetles  to- 
morrow evening,"  said  Edward,  "  and  Arty  shall 
carry  the  lantern." 

"  Try  your  eyes,  Hester,"  suggested  the  embryo 
colonel,  under  his  breath,  to  his  neighbor. 

"  What 's  that,  Hester  ?  "  asked  Wendell. 

"  He  says  I  shall  find  it  trying  to  my  eyes !  " 

"  Oh ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Westerley,  who  had 
caught  the  side  glance.  "  Quite  time,"  she  thought, 
"  that  this  young  gentleman  was  in  the  field !  " 

"Eyes?  What's  that  about  eyes?"  queried 
Wilmington,  who  was  a  little  deaf  unless  it  was 
desirable  that  he  should  not  hear.  "  Her  eyes  are 
good  enough,  I  should  say ;  and  I  think,"  he  added 
in  an  aside  to  Mrs.  Westerley,  "  that  she  is  begin- 
ning to  know  how  to  use  them." 
.  Then  there  was,  as  always  in  those  days,  some 
desultory  war  talk. 

"  Hester,"  said  Arthur,  "  I  shall  come  to  see  you 
again,  in  my  full  war  rig,  before  I  go." 

"I  would  rather  you  did  not,"  she  said  to  him 
quietly.  "  I  know  you  must  go ;  but  I  am  a  Caro- 
linian, and  I  try  to  think  nothing  about  this  war. 
I  don't  want  to  find  out  whether  it  is  right  or 
wrong.  It  is  awful  to  me,  —  awful." 

As  she  had  grown  older  the  girl  had  been  led  to 
reflect  more  and  more  on  her  position  and  its  diffi- 
culties, and  this  sort  of  thoughtfulness  was  new  and 
surprising  to  Arthur.  "  How  old  she  grows !  "  he 


IN  WAR  TIME.  197 

reflected.  "  I  see,  Hester,"  he  said,  —  "  I  see !  I 
ought  to  have  thought  all  that  for  myself." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  returned,  feeling  that  he  was 
gentle  and  generous. 

"  And  now  let  us  have  a  truce  to  war,"  said  the 
hostess,  who  knew  better  than  Arthur  what  was  in 
Hester's  mind,  and  suspected  that  this  incessant 
war  gossip  might  be  unpleasant  to  her.  "  Come, 
Hester,  we  will  go  ;  "  and  so  saying,  Mrs.  Wester- 
ley  rose,  and  left  the  men  to  their  wine,  remarking 
as  she  passed  Wendell,  "  Lest  I  forget  it  later,  will 
you  kindly  tell  Miss  Ann  that  I  will  come  and  see 
her  about  Hester  to-morrow ;  a  little  early,  —  about 
twelve  o'clock,  I  may  say.  And  Edward,  you  will 
take  care  of  our  friends  ?  " 

The  next  day,  when  Alice  Westerley  entered 
Miss  Wendell's  parlor,  Dr.  Wendell  rose  and  came 
in  from  the  back  room.  His  face,  which  was  easily 
moved,  expressed  clearly  the  pleasure  of  which  he 
was  conscious  whenever  she  was  near  him.  Indeed, 
it  would  have  been  hard  for  any  one,  and  least  of 
all  for  one  who  was  sensitive  to  beauty  in  form  and 
color  and  sound,  not  to  have  dwelt  with  growing 
interest  on  one  who  combined  all  these  attractions. 
In  no  other  woman  whom  he  had  known  were  the 
mysteries  of  womanhood  so  developed.  That  he 
did  not  understand  her  fully  was  a  part  of  her 
charm.  Wendell  himself  was  looking  well.  The 
combination  of  a  forehead  which  was  delicately 
moulded,  and  looked  wiser  than  the  man  was,  with 
a  mouth  of  unusual  mobility,  and  free  from  the 


198  IN  WAR  TIME. 

mask  of  the  mustache,  gave  to  his  face  an  unusual 
capacity  to  exhibit  whatever  feeling  was  dominant. 
He  was  now  under  the  elating  influence  of  a  new 
idea,  which  he  thought  could  be  brought  in  time  to 
useful  development.  He  had  been  seized  with  the 
fancy  that  it  would  be  interesting  to  search  into, 
and  elaborate  on  paper,  the  differences  between 
American  and  European  types  of  various  maladies. 
For  this  he  meant  to  drop,  as  he  said,  for  a  time 
other  favorite  subjects,  for  which  he  had  collected 
a  good  deal  of  material  of  value.  Mere  observa- 
tion within  restricted  fields,  under  some  organizing 
and  applicative  mind,  should  have  been  his  sole 
function.  When  he  came  to  a  point  in  his  studies 
where  it  was  needful  to  compare  acquired  facts,  in 
order  to  know  how  to  observe  further,  or  how  to 
obtain  by  experiment  facts  which  should  explain 
the  observations  of  the  post-mortem  table,  he  began 
to  find  difficulties  which  usually  ended  in  barring 
Ms  path,  until  some  newer,  and  because  newer  more 
fascinating,  subject  attracted  for  a  time  his  easily 
exhaustible  energy.  In  fact,  his  mental  ambitions 
were  high,  his  power  to  pursue  them  limited ;  while 
his  capacity  to  be  pleased  with  the  recurrent  dreams 
of  possible  future  intellectual  achievements  was  as 
remarkable  as  his  failure  to  see  why  he  constantly 
failed  to  realize  them.  Hence,  while  respected  as 
a  man  with  much  general  and  scientific  knowledge, 
he  was  known  among  doctors  as  having  contributed 
nothing  to  their  journals  save  barren  reports  of 
cases,  and  to  naturalists  as  a  clever  amateur.  But 


IN  WAR  TIME.  199 

of  these  sittings  of  a  man  by  his  fellows,  the  public 
which  is  to  use  him  learns  little  or  nothing,  so  that 
to  Alice  Westerley  he  represented  the  brilliant  and 
original  physician,  to  be  justified  by  the  patient 
issues  of  the  years  which  go  to  the  slow  growth  of 
a  doctor's  reputation. 

"  I  am  very  happy,"  he  began,  "  to  see  you.  But 
now  I  must  go." 

Just  then  Ann  Wendell,  about  to  enter  the  room, 
passed  him  as  he  went  out,  and  Mrs.  Westerley 
heard  her  say,  — 

"  I  thought,  brother,  there  was  a  meeting  at  the 
hospital  about  something." 

"  Yes,  there  is,  Ann.     But  I  was  delayed." 
"  You  can't  possibly  catch  the  train  now." 
"  Oh,  yes,  I  can.     It  is  only  a  step." 
"  Well,  hurry,  Ezra,"  she  said,  and  so  left  him ; 
Alice  Westerley  beginning  to   have  a  faint  sus- 
picion that  it  was  just  possible  he  had  lingered  to 
see  her.     To  a  woman  accustomed  to  admiration 
this  was  a  trifling  matter  ;  and  the  fact  that  he  had 
probably  failed  of  a  small  duty  thereby  would  have 
been  of  no  disturbing  value  in  her  estimates,  until 
iteration  had  given  to  such  lapses  a  body  of  weight, 
or  until  some  chance  had  occurred  to  see  the  large 
results  of  what  seemed  singly  to  be  but  trivial  fail- 
ures. 

"  You  must  excuse  me,"  said  Miss  Wendell,  re- 
membering that  in  her  haste  she  had  spoken  so  as 
to  be  overheard.  "  My  brother  has  his  mind  so 
full  of  his  work  that  he  forgets,  sometimes." 


200  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  But  what  noble  work,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wester- 
ley,  "  and  what  a  life  of  constant  self-sacrifice  !  " 

Ann  had  heard  all  this  before.  She  looked 
calmly  at  life  from  standpoints  of  duty  or  relig- 
ion, which  did  not  vary.  If  she  had  said  literally 
what  was  in  her  mind,  it  would  have  been  that  doc- 
tors knew  pretty  well  what  was  before  them ;  or 
else,  being  fast  bound  to  their  profession,  ought 
simply  to  accept  as  of  their  own  making  that  which 
it  is  pleasant  to  find  other  good  people  call  self-sac- 
rifice. But  it  is  not  in  even  as  exactly  moral  a 
nature  as  Ann's  to  be  mathematically  moral. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  think  it  to  be  counted  a 
privilege  when  one  is  called  to  a  life  of  much  giv- 
ing, even  of  what  one  is  obliged  to  give." 

"  I  hope  he  does  not  suffer  from  these  constant 
exposures  in  our  rough  weather  ?  I  thought  that 
he  looked  better  than  common  to-day." 

"  No ;  he  is  what  I  call  a  strong  man.  And  your 
winters  seem  very  mild  to  folks  from  the  Cape. 
Like  all  of  us,  he  has  now  and  then  fits  of  the 
blues ;  but  just  at  present  he  is  very  happy  over 
some  new  medical  idea." 

"  About  American  and  European  diseases  ?  Oh, 
yes,  he  spoke  of  it  last  night.  I  thought  it  so  very 
interesting ;  and  he  tells  me  it  is  such  a  fresh 
idea." 

Ann  was  always  calmly  pleased  when  her  brother 
announced  to  her  any  of  these  novel  views,  which 
at  first  sight  assumed  to  him  an  importance  im- 
mense enough  to  justify  the  enthusiasm  of  which  he 


IN   WAR   TIME.  201 

was  always  capable  at  the  outset  of  undertakings. 
With  his  schemes,  plans,  or  researches,  as  intellec- 
tual interests,  she  had  no  true  sympathy ;  and  it 
would  have  been  foreign  to  her  nature  and  her  nur- 
ture to  seem  to  be  that  which  she  was  not,  even  for 
his  gratification. 

"  It  must  be  delightful  for  my  brother  to  find 
people  like  yourself,  who  can  enter  into  his  ideas. 
I  am  very  stupid,  you  know,"  she  added,  placidly 
smiling.  "  And  really,  I  think  Hester  understands 
him  in  some  ways  better  than  I  do  !  " 

"  Indeed ! " 

"  You  know,"  she  continued,  —  for  she  was  by 
this  time,  it  must  be  remembered,  on  terms  of  easy 
acquaintanceship  with  Mrs.  Westerley,  —  "  it  is  n't 
always  just  quite  agreeable  to  feel  that  some  one 
else  can  be  in  any  way  more  to  your  brother  than 
you  are,  but  certainly  Hester  is  a  great  pleasure  to 
him.  I  sometimes  tell  him  that  I  think  if  she  were 
older  or  he  were  younger,  he  would  fall  in  love  */ 
with  her !  " 

This  was  not  a  pleasant  idea  to  Mrs.  Westerley. 
She  hardly  knew  why,  but  even  as  a  jest  it  seemed 
to  her  not  quite  what  she  would  have  called  nice. 

"  No,"  she  replied,  setting  aside  with  a  well-prac- 
ticed conversational  device  the  later  statement.  "  I 
can  understand  that  a  woman  who  is  the  sister  of 
such  a  man  as  Dr.  Wendell  might  well  desire  to  be 
everything  to  him  in  his  life.  But  how  well  Hester 
looks !  Your  speaking  of  her  makes  me  think  of 
what  I  came  about.  I  want  you  to  let  me  take  her 
to  Newport  in  August.  Won't  you,  Miss  Ann  ?  " 


202  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Ann  was  willing  enough.  She  liked  Alice  Wes- 
terley  as  well  as  she  could  conscientiously  like  any 
woman  who  had  spent  summers  at  Saratoga  and  in 
London,  and  who  dared  to  say,  without  sign  of 
compunction,  that  she  had  been  to  two  balls  in  one 
evening.  Moreover,  she  had  herself  made  up  her 
mind  that  chance,  or,  as  she  preferred  to  say,  the 
will  of  God,  had  taken  out  of  her  hands  the  respon- 
sibility of  Hester's  training ;  while  also,  perhaps, 
there  was  in  her  mind,  as  the  result  of  various  cir- 
cumstances, what  the  chemists  would  call  a  precipi- 
tate of  jealousy  as  to  Hester's  relations  to  her 
brother.  This  was  so  easily  stirred  up  that  it  was 
apt  to  cloud  her  judgment,  which  naturally  would 
have  made  her  wish  to  keep  Hester  as  much  as 
possible  within  her  own  control.  In  morals  and 
social  action,  as  in  physics,  it  is  common  to  find 
that  we  act  under  the  domination  of  a  number  of 
influences,  and  submit  in  our  decisions  to  what  the 
physicist  calls  a  resultant  of  forces. 

"  I  have  no  doubt,"  she  replied,  "  that  my 
brother  will  feel  that  Mr.  Gray  would  wish  Hester 
to  be  with  you,  at  least  a  part  of  the  summer." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Alice.  "  I  have  already 
mentioned  it  to  him,  and  he  has  said  that  what  you 
would  wish  would  be  what  he  desired." 

Ann  would  have  preferred  that  her  brother 
should  first  have  spoken  to  her.  She  had  an  un- 
easy sense  that  he  was  in  some  vague  manner  mov- 
ing away  from  her  and  her  influence. 

"And  it  will  not  be  till  August,"  added  Mrs. 
Westerley. 


IN  WAR  TIME.  203 

"  I  think  he  will  be  glad  of  the  delay,  and  Mr. 
Edward  Morton,  too.  He  has  almost  taken  posses- 
sion of  Hester  since  she  came  back." 

"  I  am  glad  the  poor  fellow  finds  anything  so 
pleasant  to  interest  him.  He  has  such  high  stand- 
ards that  any  one,  old  or  young,  must  be  the  better 
for  his  company."  Then  after  some  further  chat 
the  widow  rose.  "  I  must  go,"  she  said.  "  My 
love  to  Hester.  Is  she  in  ?  " 

"No;  she  has  gone  to  walk  with  Arthur.  I 
asked  them  to  leave  a  note  at  a  Mrs.  Grace's  for 
my  brother." 

"  Mrs.  Grace  ?  "  exclaimed  Alice,  interrogatively, 
and  surprised  into  undue  curiosity. 

"  Yes.  She  sent  to  ask  him  to  call  on  her  this 
morning,  and  he  had  to  write  that  he  could  not  see 
her  till  the  afternoon." 

"  She  has  had  six  doctors  in  a  year,  my  dear 
Miss  Ann,  and  she  abuses  them  all  in  turn !  " 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Ann,  "  I  hope  she  won't  abuse 
Ezra!" 

Alice  had  her  own  views  as  to  this,  but  she  felt 
self-convicted  of  having  mildly  gossiped  about  a 
woman  whom  she  detested,  and  she  therefore  held 
her  peace  and  went  away ;  still  believing  that,  as 
regarded  Mrs.  Grace,  it  might  be  wise  to  put  her 
friend  the  doctor  on  his  guard. 

Two  days  later,  early  in  July,  Arthur  joined  his 
regiment. 

"  Don't  say  good-by,"  begged  Edward.  «  Slip 
away  without  it.  You  will  be  back  and  forth,  I 


204  IN  WAR  TIME. 

suppose,  and  these  good-bys  in  war  times  are  too 
hard.  Always  one  thinks  anew  of  what  may  hap- 
pen. I  told  Hester  that  you  would  n't  be  here 
again." 

"  But  I  must  see  her  before  I  go,  Ned.  I  came 
here  out  of  uniform  on  purpose  to  see  her." 

"  Out  of  uniform  —  Hum  —  I  see  —  that 's  right. 
But  really  I  would  n't  see  her,  if  I  were  you.  Just 
oblige  me  about  this." 

"  But  I  hate  to  go  off  that  way." 

"I  know;  but  she  has,  as  is  natural,  Arty,  a 
good  deal  of  feeling  about  the  war,  and  as  she 
grows  older  it  deepens,  —  and  —  altogether,  I  think 
I  would  just  go  away  quietly." 

"Well,  Ned,  I  don't  quite  see  it,  and  —  well, 
I  '11  do  as  you  say ;  but  you  '11  tell  her,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear  old  boy,  I  '11  tell  her !  After  all,  it 
can't  be  to  her  quite  what  it  is  to  me  ;  and  yet  even 
I  would  far  rather  say  good-by  now." 

"  Then  good-by,  Ned." 

"  Don't  be  foolishly  rash,  Arty ;  and  God  keep 
you !  " 

And  so  was  said  one  of  the  million  partings  of 
the  great  war. 

"  Poor  Ned !  "  murmured  Arthur,  feeling  in  his 
poetic  young  heart  all  that  the  staying  at  home 
meant  for  the  gallant  and  high-minded  gentleman 
left  looking  after  him,  as  he  walked  up  the  street 
towards  Mrs.  Westerley's. 


XIV. 

MRS.  GRACE  was  the  middle-aged  wife  of  a  mer- 
chant, who  had  been  first  one  of  her  father's  clerks, 
and  then,  through  much  industry  and  indifference 
to  anything  but  the  begetting  of  dollars,  his  junior 
partner.  Like  many  men  who  win  success  in  cities, 
he  had  come  from  a  country  farm,  and  nothing  was 
more  remote  from  his  visions,  when  he  became  a 
clerk,  than  the  idea  that,  like  the  good  apprentice,  he 
might  marry  his  master's  daughter.  But  when  he 
grew  useful  enough  to  be  noticed,  and  to  be  asked 
as  a  younger  partner  to  dine  at  Mr.  Johnston's 
table,  he  fell  an  easy  prey  to  the  eldest  daughter, 
who,  having  seen  three  sisters  married  in  turn,  felt 
that  it  was  well  to  dismiss  her  hopes  of  position  in 
favor  of  the  ruddy-faced,  rather  stout  young  man, 
who  was  somewhat  her  junior.  Mr.  Johnston,  who 
was  not  over  prosperous,  knew  full  well  the  value 
of  Richard  Grace,  and  realized  the  fact  that  he 
ran  some  danger  of  losing  his  energetic  partner. 
It  was  true  that  his  own  family  had  been  solid 
merchants,  with  an  accepted  social  position,  for 
three  generations  of  absolute  inactivity,  except  as 
to  varied  fortunes  in  getting  and  losing  money ; 
but  then,  social  considerations  could  not  be  allowed, 
as  he  told  his  wife,  to  stand  in  the  way  of  business, 


206  IN  WAR  TIME. 

and  therefore  in  due  time  his  daughter  became 
Mrs.  Grace,  and  had  sons  and  daughters  after  her 
kind. 

The  husband  became  what  such  men  always  be- 
come. He  prospered  to  a  certain  extent,  and  but 
for  the  many  arrows  in  his  quiver  might  have  been 
called  rich.  He  liked  a  quiet  life ;  drank  a  little 
of  a  morning,  a  little  more  at  bedtime ;  drove  a 
fast  horse  late  every  afternoon,  played  euchre  three 
times  a  week,  read  the  Ledger,  and  believed  in  the 
Pennsylvania  Railroad.  There  were  two  things  in 
his  life  he  disliked ;  one  was  that  Colonel  Fox,  a 
distant  cousin  of  his  wife,  was  the  relentless  trustee 
of  her  small  estate,  which  was  bringing,  in  safe 
ground  rents,  six  per  cent,  in  place  of  the  ten 
which  her  husband  felt  it  would  have  brought  in 
his  own  business ;  the  other  was  his  wife's  tongue, 
and  the  consequences  thereof.  When  he  stayed  at 
home  on  the  off  evenings  of  his  euchre  club,  with- 
out lifting  his  eyes  from  his  newspaper  he  said  "  yes 
—  yes  "  at  such  intervals  as  a  long  experience  had 
proved  to  him  were  reasonably  competent  to  keep 
her  in  the  belief  that  he  was  listening.  They  were 
in  fact  mutually  unentertaining.  As  to  what  he 
did,  or  in  what  enterprises  he  engaged,  she  was  in 
no  wise  concerned,  nor  did  he  himself  conceive  that 
these  were  matters  in  which  a  woman  should  have 
any  share  ;  while,  unless  her  heedless  talk  brought 
him  into  trouble,  and  explanations  became  needful, 
he  had  long  ceased  to  listen,  even  at  meal-times. 
Nor  was  he  much  to  blame.  There  was  about  hei 


IN  WAR  TIME.  207 

mental  operations  a  bewildering  indefiniteness, 
which  baffled  the  best  bred  attention;  and  when 
Mrs.  Grace  talked,  what  she  was  saying  was  as  un- 
likely to  have  any  relation  to  what  she  had  said  be- 
fore as  are  the  successive  contents  of  a  naturalist's 
trawl-net  after  deep-sea  dredging.  Her  life  had 
been  a  feeble  acetous  fermentation.  Her  position 
was  less  good  than  it  had  been.  Her  daughters 
had  married  out  of  what  she  considered  her  own 
proper  sphere  of  social  life  ;  and  altogether  she  had 
come  by  degrees  to  have  a  dull  sense  of  being 
somehow  wronged. 

It  was  out  of  reason  to  expect  such  a  person  not 
to  be  critical  of  her  more  happy  neighbors ;  but 
her  criticism  was  after  all  less  that  of  determined 
malice  than  the  mere  simmering  of  a  slow  intelli- 
gence, limited  in  its  interests,  and  heated,  or  rather 
but  merely  warmed,  by  disappointment,  which  like 
everything  else,  she  felt  but  vaguely.  It  is  not, 
however,  to  be  presumed  that  such  women  are  in- 
operative in  life.  If  they  have  ruled  stolidly  a 
stolid  family,  they  acquire  dangerous  habits  of  self- 
assertion  ;  and  as  obstinacy  is  the  armor  of  dull 
minds,  Mrs.  Grace  was  apt,  when  attacked,  to  re- 
treat within  its  shell,  with  changeless  opinions. 
There  are  some  stupid  people,  and  certain  antago- 
nistic but  clever  people,  who  enjoy  in  their  different 
ways  the  pleasure  of  holding  theories,  which  they 
treat  like  spoilt  children,  and  indulge  at  the  social 
cost  of  others.  Of  such  theories  Mrs.  Grace  had 
her  share.  She  had  a  high  estimate  of  her  insight 


208  TN  WAR  TIME. 

into  maladies,  dosed  her  helpless  family  a  good 
deal,  and  expected  to  be  heard  with  attention  by 
her  doctors,  of  whom,  as  a  natural  consequence,  she 
had  many.  She  disbelieved  in  vaccination,  and 
had  views  as  to  the  impropriety  of  experiments  on 
animals,  which  may  have  arisen,  as  Mrs.  Wester- 
ley  said,  from  some  mysterious  defensive  instinct 
as  to  transmutation  in  kind. 

The  Sanitary  Commission  was  a  great  resource 
at  present  in  Mrs.  Grace's  life,  and  late  in  the 
morning  of  the  day  she  had  sent  for  Wendell  she 
entered  the  busy  room  of  its  local  office  with  a 
sense  of  tranquil  satisfaction.  Here  she  found 
Ann  Wendell,  aided  by  Hester,  busily  engaged  in 
inspecting  and  sorting  undergarments  intended  to 
be  sent  to  Pennsylvania  regiments.  Alice  Wester- 
ley  was  occupied  at  a  table  with  accounts,  and  two 
or  three  older  and  some  younger  women  were  sew- 
ing, or  packing  different  articles. 

Alice  Westerley  nodded  to  the  new-comer,  and 
the  other  women,  who  represented  very  various  de- 
grees of  social  life  brought  together  by  one  pur- 
pose, spoke  to  her  as  she  came  in. 

"  What  is  there  to-day  ?  "  she  asked  Miss  Wen- 
dell. 

"Oh,  everything,"  replied  Ann.  "You  might 
help  Hester  to  pack  these  socks.  This  is  Mrs. 
Grace,  Hester.  Make  room  for  her,  my  dear." 

"  What  a  tall  girl  you  are !  "  said  Mrs.  Grace, 
and  knelt  down,  talking  as  she  somewhat  sluggishly 
helped  to  pack  the  box  between  them.  "  And  yon 
are  Miss  Wendell's  niece,  Hester?" 


IN  WAR  TIME.  209 

"  No,  I  am  not  her  niece." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  remember,  —  her  ward." 

"Oh,  no,  I  am  not  that,  either,"  answered  the 
girl,  whose  instincts  were  quick  and  defensive. 

"  Now,  I  remember :  Sarah  —  that 's  my  daugh- 
ter —  told  me  about  you,  and  how  your  father  was 
killed.  And,  you  know,  Sarah  says  you  are  en- 
gaged to  Arthur  Morton." 

"  I  am  not  engaged  to  Mr.  Arthur  Morton  !  "  ex- 
claimed the  girl,  coloring  as  much  with  anger  as 
with  shame.  "  I  am  a  young  girl  at  school,  and  I 
do  not  see  why  any  one  should  say  such  things 
about  me." 

"  But  you  know  you  look  eighteen,  my  dear,  — 
quite  eighteen.  I  suppose  your  dress  —  the  way 
you  are  dressed  —  makes  you  look  less  young." 

"  I  dare  say  I  seem  older  than  I  am,"  said  Hes- 
ter. 

"  But  you  might  be  nineteen,  to  look  at  you. 
You  know  Dr.  Wendell  is  to  be  my  doctor." 

"  Indeed !  "  And  Hester  nervously  crammed 
away  rebellious  socks  into  the  unoccupied  corners 
left  by  Mrs.  Grace's  clumsy  stowage. 

"  I  sent  for  him  because  he  believes  in  malaria." 

Hester  was  silent,  and  so  aroused  Mrs.  Grace's 
dull  suspicions. 

"  He  does  believe  in  malaria,  does  n't  he  ?  —  I 
mean  in  Germantown.  Dr.  Mason  says  it's  non- 
sense ;  but  then  I  never  have  agreed  with  him. 
He  did  say,  though,  that  Sarah  had  malaria,  and 
after  all  it  was  measles  ;  but  I  think  measles  is 


210  72V  WAR  TIME. 

malaria,"  she  added,  with  a  sense  of  trimphant 
logic.  "  There  must  be  an  awful  amount  of  mala- 
ria on  the  Potomac." 

"  I  hardly  think  I  know  anything  about  it,"  re- 
turned Hester,  and  went  on  packing,  her  thoughts 
meanwhile  far  away  with  Arty  and  the  war ;  for 
even  the  poorest  husbandman  may  effectively  sow 


"  I  should  say  Arthur  Morton  would  be  a  right 
good  match  for  almost  any  girl,"  observed  Mrs. 
Grace,  with  her  amazing  capacity  for  dangerous 
digression. 

Hester  looked  down  resolutely,  wondering  if  the 
woman  could  know  what  thoughts  were  in  her 
mind.  The  simple  purity  of  a  nature  trembling  at 
the  gates  of  womanhood  was  disgusted  and  dis- 
turbed at  this  rude  criticism  of  her  most  pleasant 
relations  in  life. 

But  Mrs.  Westerley,  having  ended  her  work,  was 
standing  over  them,  and  had  overheard  the  last 
sentence. 

"  You  are  packing  very  badly,  Hester,"  she  said, 
which  was  true.  "  Leave  that  to  Mrs.  Grace,  and 
come  and  copy  this  list." 

Hester  rose,  with  a  look  of  relief,  and  went  to 
the  desk. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Westerley,"  she  whispered,  "what  a 
dreadful  person ! " 

"  Yes,  my  child,  but  never  mind." 

Then  Mrs.  Grace  investigated  Ann  Wendell's 
views  as  to  vaccination,  and  was  gently  amazed  to 


IN  WAR   TIME.  211 

find  that  Ann  had  no  particular  views  at  all  on  this 
matter.  Not  so,  however,  Miss  Clemson,  her  neigh- 
bor, a  tall  young  woman,  with  a  thin,  pugnacious 
nose,  and  a  mind  quite  too  satisfactorily  logical  to 
be  attractive  to  the  common  masculine  mind,  which 
finds  a  mysterious  gratification  in  the  indefiniteness 
of  young  women. 

"Vaccination?  "  she  said  distinctly,  while  the 
surrounding  persons  looked  up  with  the  pleased 
sense  of  something  amusing  in  prospect,  —  "  vacci- 
nation ?  Have  you  ever  made  a  study  of  the  sub- 
ject ?  That  is,  have  you  ever  really  inquired  into 
the  statistics  ?  "  She  spoke  with  a  clear  and  de- 
liberate articulation. 

"  No  ;  but  I  have  my  opinions." 

"  You  say  No.  Is  that  a  negation  of  the  value 
of  vaccination  ?  Because  you  must  be  aware,"  she 
continued  blandly,  "  that  that  would  be  a  mere  rep- 
etition of  what  you  have  just  stated.  Now,  an 
accurate  examination  of  the  statistics  of  variola  "  — 

"  Of  what  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Grace. 

"  Of  variola,"  repeated  Miss  Clemson,  not  stop- 
ping to  explain  —  "  would  show  that  before  Jen- 
ner's  time  "  — 

"  Oh,  I  know  !  "  interrupted  Mrs.  Grace.  "  I 
have  seen  all  that  in  the  papers,  over  and  over ; 
but  I  need  not  say  that  that  does  n't  satisfy  me.  I 
think  you  will  find  Dr.  Wendell  agrees  with  me. 
Is  n't  it  so,  Miss  Wendell  ?  " 

Ann  kept  silence.  She  did  not  know  anything 
about  it,  except  that  her  brother  did  vaccinate  peo- 


212  IN  WAR  TIME. 

pie  ;  and  also,  it  may  be  added,  the  wisdom  and 
great  good  of  holding  her  tongue  had  been  borne 
in  upon  her,  as  she  said,  with  effective  clearness. 

As  she  paused,  unwilling  to  reply,  Alice  Wester- 
ley,  perceiving  her  difficulty,  said,  smiling,  "And 
of  course  you  do  not  have  your  own  children  vacci- 
nated?" 

"My  children  are  vaccinated  because  Kichard 
would  have  it.  Richard  is  just  too  awfully  obsti- 
nate. Sarah  says  '  he  's  a  regular  piece  de  r6sis- 
tance.'  I  Ve  mostly  forgotten  my  French,  but  I 
guess  that 's  about  what  he  is.  But  that  does  n't 
change  my  mind." 

Alice  Westerley  and  Miss  Clemson  exchanged 
furtive  glances  of  amusement,  and  one  young  wom- 
an fled,  convulsed  with  suppressed  laughter,  into 
the  back  storeroom. 

At  last  Miss  Clemson  attained  sufficient  compos- 
ure to  murmur,  "  Oh,  of  course  not  ;  but  perhaps 
you  might  agree  with  him  if  you  were  to  read  Dr. 
Jenner's  original  treatise." 

"Oh,  I  presume  you've  read  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Grace. 

"Yes,  I  have,"  returned  Miss  Clemson,  simply. 
In  fact,  there  were  few  things  she  had  not  read 
about,  and  her  memory  made  her  a  dangerous  oppo- 
nent. 

"  "Won't  you  ask  for  labels,  Mrs.  Grace  ?  "  said 
Alice,  wishing  to  stop  the  talk,  and  longing  for  a 
solitary  laugh. 

Mrs.  Grace  rose  heavily,  and  saying,  "  No  one 


IN  WAR  TIME.  213 

should  vaccinate  me,"  went  into  a  back  room  in 
search  of  the  desired  articles. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  envy  Dr.  Wendell,  Miss  Ann," 
began  an  indiscreet  miss  at  her  side.  "  They  say 
she  has  a  doctor  every  two  months,  and  that  "  — 

"  Hush,"  exclaimed  Alice  Westerley ;  "  don't  let 's 
talk  gossip  here.  We  are  getting  to  be  as  bad  as 
a  Dorcas  meeting  !  " 

"  Was  that  gossip,  Mrs.  Westerley  ?  "  asked  the 
young  person.  "  I  thought  anybody  could  talk 
about  doctors." 

"  Doctors !  "  said  Alice,  laughing,  —  "  doctors, 
indeed !  You  know  that  you  were  not  discussing 
doctors ! " 

"  Mrs.  Westerley  is  right,"  added  Miss  Clemson. 
"There  is  no  need  to  talk  about  persons  at  all, 
Susie." 

"  But  were  n't  you  talking  about  a  Dr.  Jenner  ?  " 
replied  the  young  person,  calmly  triumphant. 

"  Good  heavens !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Clemson. 

"  And  what  did  I  say  ?  "  went  on  Miss  Susan ; 
and  there  was  a  burst  of  laughter,  which  cleared 
the  air,  and  amidst  which  Hester  and  Miss  Wen- 
dell went  away  with  the  widow. 

Then  Mrs.  Grace  returned  to  the  room,  having 
been  unable  to  find  the  labels,  "  And  would  n't  Miss 
Susie  find  them  ?  "  which  enabled  that  young  per- 
son to  drop  her  work,  and  chatter  with  a  clerk  and 
two  other  maidens  in  the  back  room. 

"  What  were  you  all  laughing  at  ?  "  questioned 
Mrs.  Grace,  all  unexplained  mirth  being  suspi- 
ciously unpleasant  to  her. 


214  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  We  were  laughing  at  one  of  those  chatterbox 
girls,"  returned  Miss  Clemson. 

"  Oh,  was  that  all  ?  And  where  is  Alice  Wes- 
terley?"  said  Mrs.  Grace,  who  by  no  means  in- 
dulged in  so  naming  that  lady  when  present,  but 
who  had  no  objection  to  the  varied  circle  within 
earshot  supposing  her  to  be  on  terms  of  intimacy 
with  the  widow.  Mrs.  Grace  was  beginning  to 
feel  quite  decisively  the  effects  of  that  gradual  fall 
from  a  good  position  which  is  so  common  a  feature 
of  American  life,  and  which  had  already  begun  to 
show  in  her  parents.  In  colonial  days  her  people 
had  won  much  money,  and  with  it  the  chance  of 
culture ;  but,  as  old  Mr.  Wilmington  said,  they 
were  like  some  wines,  and  did  n't  take  kindly  to 
fining.  In  another  generation  they  would  disap- 
pear socially,  having  failed  in  the  competitions  of 
our  uneasy  life.  Mrs.  Grace  had  in  fact  an  indis- 
tinct sense  of  lapsing  from  her  rank,  and  her  chil- 
dren were  still  sinking,  and  did  not  care  about  it, 
or  perhaps  as  yet  did  not  feel  it. 

"Don't  you  think  our  Sanitary  should  have  a 
new  president,  since  Mrs.  Morton  does  n't  appear 
to  come  back  ?  "  asked  this  lady. 

"I  cannot  see  why,"  replied  Miss  Clemson. 
"Mrs.  Westerley  is  vice-president,  and  that  an- 
swers every  purpose." 

"And  a  good  one,"  assented  Mrs.  Bullock,  a 
motherly  woman  in  the  corner,  ceasing  to  count  the 
pile  of  garments  before  her.  "We  should  only 
just  change  her  title,  if  we  made  her  president,  and 
of  course  we  could  not  elect  any  one  else." 


IN  WAR  TIME.  215 

That  was  not  at  all  Mrs.  Grace's  idea.  She  her- 
self had  dimly  felt  aspirations  after  office,  but  she 
had  sense  enough  to  say,  "  Oh,  yes,  of  course  not," 
which  was  sufficient;  and  then  she  added,  "And 
where  is  Miss  Wendell?" 

"Gone  with  Mrs.  Westerley." 

"  Oh !  They  do  say  she  is  going  to  marry  that 
doctor." 

"Who  do  say?"  queried  Miss  Clemson;  "and 
who  is  to  marry  who  ?  " 

"  Oh,  several  say.     You  know  he  's  there  all  the 
time ;  and  for  my  part  I  do  not  see  how  a  young 
woman  like  that  can  be  so  imprudent  as  to  have    , 
an  unmarried  man  for  her  doctor." 

"  Is  she  ever  ill  ? "  asked  the  matron  in  the 
corner. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  so,  or  why  should  he  go  there  ?  " 

*'  I  should  not  believe  that  he  went  there  at  all, 
at  least  without  proof.  How  often  does  he  go 
there,  Mrs.  Grace  ?  "  It  was  a  question  for  inves- 
tigation with  Miss  Clemson.  She  was  too  accurate 
for  perfect  manners,  but  was  nevertheless  well 
bred. 

"  I  suppose  you  would  n't  doubt  my  word  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  Miss  Clemson,  who  was  in  a 
high  state  of  disgust,  "not  your  word;  only  your 
power  of  observation,  or  perhaps  your  talent  for 
arithmetic.  When  people  are  slandered,  I  like  to 
ask  for  proofs." 

Mrs.  Grace  was  silent  a  moment,  but  a  rosy 
young  woman  came  to  her  aid,  who  showed  already 


216  IN  WAR  TIME. 

a  reasonable  promise  of  being  in  middle  life  a  bore 
of  great  inertia,  having  the  gift  of  indefinitely  ex- 
plaining minute  commonplaces,  and  being,  as  yet, 
*  so  pretty  that  her  face  was  a  bribe  to  some  measure 
of  endurance.  "  I  think  Mrs.  Grace  means  that 
when  a  doctor  goes  very  often,  and  when  you  know 
he  is  a  young  man,  and  when  you  see  he  is  hand- 
some, —  why,  I  think  it  must  make  a  difference." 

Miss  Clemson  beat  an  impatient  tattoo  on  the 
table  with  her  thimbled  forefinger. 

Then  Mrs.  Grace  announced  with  emphasis,  as  if 
she  had  really  thought  it  all  over,  "  Yes,  it  must 
make  a  difference.  It  must  make  a  great  differ- 
ence." 

"  I  don't  think,"  remarked  Mrs.  Bullock,  "  that 
I  understand  quite." 

"  Who  could ! "  cried  Miss  Clemson.  "  But  this 
much  I  understand  :  that  Mrs.  Grace  desires  us  to 
believe  that  there  is  some  impropriety  in  Mrs. 
Westerley  being  attended,  when  ill,  by  Dr.  Wen- 
dell. I  hope  Mrs.  Grace  will  not  feel  hurt  if  I  say 
that  all  this  kind  of  gossip  is  dangerous." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Mrs.  Bullock,  who  felt 
that,  true  or  not,  it  was  hardly  the  kind  of  talk  to 
which  young  girls  should  be  made  to  listen. 

"  All  of  which  does  n't  change  my  opinion,"  put 
in  Mrs.  Grace. 

"  And  are  you  quite  willing  I  should  tell  Mrs. 
Westerley  ?  "  asked  Miss  Clemson. 

"  Good  gracious,  no ! "  returned  Mrs.  Grace, 
"  Why  should  any  one  tell  her  ?  " 


7.2V   WAR   TIME.  217 

"Then  why,"  continued  Miss  Clemson,  "need 
any  one  say  such  things?  I  hate  gossip;  it  is 
always  inaccurate." 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  Mrs.  Grace  meant  to  gos- 
sip," exclaimed  the  forward  young  person  from  her 
corner. 

"  I  never  gossip,"  said  Mrs.  Grace,  "  but  I  have 
my  own  opinions." 

"  Then  let  us  all  have  our  own  opinions,  and  keep 
them,  like  other  precious  things,  to  ourselves,"  re- 
turned Miss  Clemson,  wearily.  "  Where  are  those 
labels,  Susie?" 

If  any  one  had  told  Mrs.  Grace  that  she  was 
maliciously  sowing  a  slander,  it  would  have  sur- 
prised that  lady.  She  was  simply  saying  what 
came  uppermost,  and  her  mind,  as  Arty  once  said, 
was  "  like  our  Christmas  grab-bag :  you  never 
knew  what  you  would  pull  out."  Nevertheless,  she 
had  done  some  evil,  ignorantly  or  not,  and  evil  has 
a  feline  tenacity  of  life. 

For  the  present  no  more  came  of  it  than  that 
Mrs.  Bullock,  who  had  overheard  Mrs.  Grace's  talk 
with  Hester,  thought  it  well  to  say  to  Mrs.  Wester- 
ley  something  about  the  strong  desire  they  all  felt 
that  Mrs.  Grace  should  by  no  good-nature  of  Mrs. 
Westerley  be  allowed  to  become  the  head  of  their 
branch  of  the  Commission. 

"Rest  easy,  my  dear,"  said  the  widow;  "not 
while  I  am  alive." 

"  She  ought  to  be  shut  up,"  returned  the  matron. 
u  I  do  think,  Mrs.  Westerley,  there  are  some  people 


218  IN  WAR   TIME. 

in  the  penitentiary  who  have  done  less  harm  in 
their  lives.  You  should  have  heard  her  talk  to 
Hester  Gray  about  being  engaged  to  young  Mor- 
ton !  It  was  simply  disgusting,  and  "  — 

"No  doubt,"  broke  in  Alice,  "but  I  do  not 
think  she  really  wants  to  hurt  anybody.  For  my 
part,  I  hardly  care  to  hear  what  she  said,  and  for 
that  reason  I  interrupted  you.  You  won't  mind 
my  interrupting  you,  but  I  am  really  ashamed  to 
confess  that  sometimes  what  that  woman  says  has 
the  power  to  make  me  unreasonably  angry." 

"  Well,  it 's  all  right.  I  had  nothing  else  to 
say."  This  was  hardly  more  true  than  Mrs.  Grace's 
gossip ;  but  the  speaker  was  glad  to  have  had  time 
to  reflect,  and  had  hastily  concluded  that  what  she 
had  meant  to  add  further  were  best  left  unsaid. 

The  summer  sped  away,  and  the  war  went  on  its 
unrelenting  course  as  Grant  drew  tighter  his  par- 
alyzing lines  around  Petersburg,  and  the  wearied 
rebel  army  struggled  with  the  vigor  of  a  brave  race 
against  men  as  gallant  and  more  numerous  ;  while 
to  the  little  circle  of  friends  Arthur's  frequent  and 
clever  letters  brought  a  new  and  anxious  interest  in 
this  dreadful  death-wrestle. 

Hester  was  changing  in  a  way  that  surprised 
Ann  Wendell,  and  both  surprised  and  interested 
Alice.  By  degrees  the  effects  of  her  former  dreary 
school  life  and  the  subsequent  sense  of  isolation,  as 
well  as  the  shock  and  terror  of  her  father's  death, 
were  wearing  off.  For  a  long  while,  and  more  and 


IN  WAR  TIME.  219 

more  as  with  larger  knowledge  she  realized  this 
novel  experience  of  a  death,  its  memory  oppressed 
the  girl  at  times ;  but  time  is  stronger  in  the  young 
than  any  memories,  however  sad,  and  Hester  was 
now  exhibiting  such  joy  of  happy  thoughtlessness 
as  belongs  of  pleasant  right  to  her  age. 

Alice  Westerley  saw  plainly  that  Hester  showed, 
as  she  grew  older,  a  little  too  much  tendency  to  be 
her  own  mistress,  —  a  fault  which  was  due  rather 
to  the  early  lack  of  firm  home  training  than  to 
any  uneradicable  peculiarity  in  Hester's  mental  or 
moral  structure.  The  widow,  like  Mrs.  Morton, 
had  also  her  doubts  as  to  whether  Ann  Wendell 
was  exactly  the  person  to  mould  or  manage  a  light- 
hearted  girl  of  resolute  nature,  and  felt  a  certain 
anxiety  as  to  whether  Hester  was  to  look  for  per- 
manent help  from  Henry  Gray,  or  was  to  be  de- 
pendent upon  her  own  exertions.  It  was  best,  she 
thought,  to  assume  that  the  latter  was  to  be  the 
case ;  but  yet  it  was  not  in  Alice's  kindly  nature  to 
be  able  to  feel  that  so  young  and  joyous  a  creature 
should  be  on  this  account  made  to  know  too  early 
the  bitterness  of  having  to  look  forward  into  a 
future  of  self-sustaining  labor  among  absolute  stran- 
gers. She  would  at  least  take  her  to  Newport,  and 
see,  as  she  said.  Meanwhile  she  wrote  to  Henry 
Gray,  who  was  like  a  bird  on  the  wing  for  restless- 
ness, and  who  for  some  reason  made  no  reply. 

Yet  whatever  were  Alice's  doubts  and  fears, 
there  were  none  now  for  Hester,  nor  for  Edward 
Morton.  His  health  was  still  infirm,  and  likely  to 


220  IN  WAR  TIME. 

be  so  for  life ;  but  even  his  occasional  pain  and 
sleeplessness  only  tended  to  make  him  more  and 
more  dependent  upon  Hester's  gentle  help. 

They  had  gone  out  together  for  an  afternoon 
drive,  which  meant  usually  a  little  wandering  about 
through  lanes  and  by-roads  behind  a  lazy  old  horse, 
which  they  hitched  to  a  fence  now  and  then,  while 
they  gathered  flowers,  or  looked  for  grubs  and 
beetles,  or  watched  ant-heaps  by  the  hour.  Hester 
had  thus  come  to  know  by  degrees  the  beauty  of 
that  charming  neighborhood,  happily  preserved  to- 
day by  the  Park  inclosures  ;  and  it  was  a  fresh  de- 
light when  her  friend  could  show  her  some  new 
lane,  or  discuss  with  her,  book  in  hand  and  map  on 
knee,  their  doubts  as  to  the  track  of  Revolutionary 
armies,  or  with  equal  interest  the  family  name  of 
a  fern  or  a  butterfly.  They  were  both  somewhat 
silent,  as  they  drove  lazily  along,  on  this  their  last 
summer  afternoon  together,  until  at  last  Edward 
said,  smiling,  "  Queer,  is  n't  it,  Hester,  that  as  this 
is  our  last  chance  for  a  good  gabble  we  should  both 
be  mum  as  mice !  Let  us  improve  the  occasion,  as 
Miss  Ann's  preacher  says.  Look  down  the  river. 
What  a  leaf  crop  there  is  this  year !  " 

They  crossed  the  Schuylkill  at  the  Falls'  Bridge, 
and  passed  southward  along  the  bank,  until  at  last 
the  young  man  said,  "  We  will  try  the  hill  here, 
Hester.  I  want  to  show  you  something ;  but  I 
shall  need  help.  Give  me  my  stick,  and  let  us  go 
slowly,  and  halt  as  often  as  the  Potomac  army." 

Then,  tardily  enough,  —  for  he  walked  with  difli- 


7^  WAR   TIME.  221 

culty,  —  they  crossed  the  Reading  railroad,  and 
climbed  up  a  narrow,  sunken  lane,  brier-set  and 
dark  with  sumach  and  dogwood.  "  We  are  on  the 
old  inclined  plane  of  the  railway,  Hester,"  he  said, 
as  he  paused  for  breath  near  the  summit.  "  And 
this  is  our  way,  here,  to  the  right ;  "  and  so  saying 
he  broke  through  a  close,  wild  hedge  of  alders  and 
judas-trees,  and  turned  with  pleasure  to  see  the  joy 
of  the  eager  young  face  at  his  side.  Before  them 
lay  a.  rolling  bit  of  grass  land,  bounded  on  three 
sides  by  forest,  much  as  it  is  to-day  ;  not  far  away 
rose  a  green  hillside,  above  a  gray  stone  spring 
house,  and  to  their  right,  in  the  woods,  a  brook 
chuckled  merrily  noisy  answers  to  the  dauntless 
catbirds,  who  love  the  wood  edges,  and  the  wood 
robin,  who  likes  its  darkened  depths.  The  trees 
about  them  stirred  the  girl's  unaffected  love  of  na- 
ture. "  These  be  honest  gentlemen,"  said  Edward, 
standing  bareheaded.  Three  matchless  tulip  pop- 
lars, stateliest  of  trees,  rose  serene,  with  moveless 
shining  leaves,  beside  the  more  feminine  gracious- 
ness  of  a  group  of  maples,  perfect  as  to  form  and 
densely  clad  in  August  greenery.  "  Ah,  Hester," 
he  said,  "  you  who  love  trees  should  say  a  prayer 
for  him  who  spared  these  noble  fellows.  But  here 
is  my  spring.  This  is  what  we  came  to  see." 

At  an  angle  of  the  wood  was  a  quiet  little  pool 
of  cold  water,  set  about  with  narrow  slabs  of  mar- 
ble stained  with  the  fallen  leafage  of  many  an  au- 
tumn. In  its  depths  pink  willow  rootlets,  which 
our  boys  call  foxtails,  were  tangled  with  the  white 


222  IN  WAR  TIME. 

roots  of  a  sturdy  maple,  which  rose  in  wholesome 
strength  above  the  surrounding  trees.  Hester  knelt 
down,  and,  smiling,  saw  her  face  set  in  the  brown 
mirror's  little  square  of  mottled  sun  and  shade. 

As  she  looked,  Edward  stood  over  her,  and  she 
saw  his  face  in  the  still  spring,  beside  her  own. 
She  laughed  prettily,  and  bent  over  to  drink ;  but 
looked  up  as  she  touched  the  water.  "  I  have 
drunk  you  all  up,  Mr.  Edward ! "  she  cried,  still 
laughing.  Edward  shrank  back.  Disease  had 
made  the  once  strong  young  man  unnaturally  sensi- 
tive and  nervous.  He  remembered  the  story  of  this 
little  forest  well,  and  how  once  a  fair  maiden, 
drinking  here,  like  this  girl,  had  seen  of  a  sudden, 
beside  her  own  face,  that  of  a  man  ;  and  how  she 
had  come  to  love  that  sombre  face ;  and  how  in 
after  years  its  owner  had  wrecked  her  life,  and  be- 
trayed his  country  in  its  darkest  hour. 

Hester  arose,  seeing  the  trouble  in  her  friend's 
face. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,  "  What  is  the  mat- 
ter?" 

"  Nothing,"  he  returned  hastily.  "  A  little  tired, 
I  suppose." 

He  wondered,  indeed,  at  the  strange  stir  and  tu- 
mult in  himself.  Not  for  the  world  would  he  have 
told  her  that  grim  legend  of  Arnold's  well.  "  Come 
away  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Let  us  see  what  there  is 
in  our  bag.  I  am  all  right  now.  We  have  a  lot 
of  jolly  queer  things.  How  the  doctor  will  like  it ! 
I  sometimes  wonder  now,  Hester,  how  I  could  ever 


IN  WAR  TIME.  223 

have  so  despaired  of  life.  What  helpful  things 
books  are !  Don't  you  marvel  what  sick  folks  did 
in  the  Middle  Ages  ?  I  mean  poor  devils  of  half- 
sick  folks,  like  me." 

"  I  think,"  said  the  girl,  doubtfully,  "  they  must 
have  looked  even  more  at  the  skies  and  the  flowers 
than  we  do ;  but  I  don't  know,  really.  If  I  were 
sick,  I  should  n't  be  as  patient  as  you.  Mrs.  Wes- 
ter ley  tells  me  I  am  sometimes  impatient,  now." 

"  But  why  does  she  say  that  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  don't  know.  No,  I  hardly  mean 
that :  I  do  know  very  well !  She  scolded  me  a  lit- 
tle yesterday,  and  I  suppose  I  was  n't  quite  as 
meek  as  I  ought  to  have  been.  But  I  have  prom- 
ised to  be  so  awfully  good  at  Newport !  " 

"  Little  scamp  !  It  's  a  nice  place  for  you  to  be- 
gin a  career  of  goodness.  I  would  n't  trust  you ! " 

"  Yes,  you  would  !  I  should  n't  like  it  if  you 
ceased  to  trust  me.  Oh,  there  is  a  droll-looking 
bug  !  I  wonder  what  it  is  !  " 

"  Let  the  bugs  alone,  little  friend,  and  come  and 
sit  down.     I  am  mortally  tired." 
/     Then  the  girl  found  that  perhaps  she  too  was 
tired,  which  was  scarcely  the  case ;  but  she  was 
tenderly  thoughtful  with  and  for  Edward. 

"  Let  us  read  Arthur's  letter,"  she  suggested. 
"I  have  been  saving  it,  as  Miss  Ann  says,  for 
'  gooding.' " 

"  What  a  nice  old  English  word !  There  's  a 
stump  for  me,  and  you  can  lie  on  the  grass.  And 
now  for  dear  old  Arty,"  said  Edward,  as  he  cast  a 


224  IN  WAR  TIME. 

pleased  look  at  Hester,  who  was  opening  Arthur's 
letter  with  that  dainty  care  which,  to  a  more  expe- 
rienced observer  than  her  companion,  might  have 
gone  far  to  tell  her  modest  secret. 

As  he  looked  down  upon  her,  a  thought  came  to 
him  of  the  contrast  between  her  vigorous  and  grow- 
ing life  and  his  own  increasing  feebleness ;  and, 
\l  looking  up,  Hester  saw  him  gazing  past  her,  dream- 
ing. What  meaning  there  was  in  the  profound 
sadness  of  his  eyes  she  did  not  comprehend ;  but 
seeing  the  sadness,  was  by  instinct  moved  with 
some  sweet  womanly  equality  of  mere  emotion. 

"  What  is  it,  Mr.  Edward?  "  she  said. 

"  Nothing,  dear,"  he  answered  ;  but  there  was  a 
look  of  grievous  defeat  about  the  young  man,  and 
when,  in  after-years,  Hester  stood  before  the 
stricken  lion  of  Lucerne,  some  remembrance  of  her 
hour  at  the  spring,  beneath  the  maples,  came  back 
to  her,  and  with  eyes  full  of  tears  she  turned  away. 
"  Don't  mind  me,"  he  continued  ;  "  go  on.  What 
does  the  living  say  to  the  dead,  Hester  ?  " 

"  Nonsense !  "  she  answered  cheerfully.  "  That 
does  n't  sound  like  you.  You  are  worth  some  dozen 
of  certain  live  folks  I  know." 

"  Then  your  acquaintance  must  have  queer  lim- 
itations. What  does  he  say  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Arthur  says,"  she  replied,  carefully  spread- 
ing out  the  letter  on  her  lap,  —  "he  says "  — 

"  But  why  do  you  say  '  Mr.  Arthur  '  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  am  practicing,"  said  Hester,  with  a 
wicked  demureness  of  repressed  fun.  "  That  was 


IN  WAR  TIME.  225 

what  Mrs.  Westerley  lectured  me  about  yester- 
day." 

"  No !  not  really  ?  Why,  she  is  worse  than 
mamma." 

"  Yes.  She  orders  authoritatively  that  I  am  to 
call  you  both  '  Mr.  Morton.'  Mrs.  Westerley  does 
not  approve  of  the  way  young  girls  have  of  calling 
men  by  their  first  names.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

Edward  whistled.     "  And  when  does  it  begin  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  begged  off  till  I  come  back.  I  said  it 
would  n't  seem  so  sudden  then." 

"I  shall  be  told  to  call  you  Miss  Gray,  next." 

"  Oh,  no !  " 

"Oh,  yes!     Why  not?" 

"  But  I  won't  like  that,  at  aU !  I  won't  have  it ; 
and  Arty  —  he  "  — 

"  Wait  a  little,  my  dear ;  you  don't  know  Mrs. 
Alice.  She  will  have  her  way,  you  will  find ;  and 
as  to  *  Won't,'  —  you  know  what  happened  to 
him?" 

"  Yes,  I  know.  But  I  like  him  well ;  and  I  like 
all  his  family,  — '  Sha'n't,'  and  '  Can't,'  and  the 
rest." 

"  A  bad  connection,  Miss  Gray,"  he  said,  smil- 
ing. "But  what  about  Arty?  —  Mr.  Morton,  I 
should  say." 

"  Mr.  Morton  says  :  — 

"DEAR  QUEEN  ESTHER  [that's  for  short,  I 
fancy],  —  I  suppose  the  newspapers  tell  you  all 
about  us  in  general;  more,  in  fact,  than  we  know 
ourselves.  Fox  swears  like  cur  army  in  Flanders 


226  IN  WAR  TIME. 

(every  one  swears  in  the  army,  —  except  me)  when 
the  reporters  come  to  our  bivouac.  And,  by  the 
bye,  tell  Ned  to  send  me  some  onions  and  a  little 
old  Rye.  Don't  forget  the  onions.  He  knows 
where  there  's  some  at  home.  I  mean  Rye.  Yester- 
day we  had  a  little  relief  from  this  endless  drill 
and  loafing.  The  colonel  gives  us  no  peace  about 
drilling.  There  was  an  alarm  at  daybreak,  and 
we  had  a  sharp  affair  with  a  —  [something  —  it 
is  blotted  out]  Confederate  regiment."  (He  had 
written  Carolina,  but  remembering  what  eyes  were 
to  see  it  had  erased  the  number  and  State,  which 
would  have  told  Hester  that  it  was  her  father's  old 
regiment.) 

"  Fox  had  a  near  thing  of  it,  and  I  was  twice  in 
among  their  guns.  Had  to  come  out  again  in  a 
hurry.  I  thought  of  "  — 

Here  the  girl  paused,  confused. 

"Oh,  I  know,"  said  Edward.  "He  thought  of 
me.  Go  on ;  I  can  stand  it !  " 

Hester  looked  down.  "I  thought  of  my  dear 
Ned,  and  knowing  how  much  better  a  soldier  he 
would  have  made  than  I,  wished  he  might  have 
been  with  me.  But  don't  think  I  like  it  at  all. 
Any  one  who  says  they  like  it  is  stupid,  or  lies.  I 
don't.  I  never  realized  until  now  how  dreadful  is 
war ;  but  I  think  I  know  that  I  ought  to  be  here, 
and  why.  Yet  when  a  fellow  is  in  the  thick  of  one 
of  these  mad  rushes  at  death  through  smoke,  there 
is  something  of  a  wild  joy  about  it.  At  all  events, 
it  does  one  some  good.  That  is,  it  does  the  decent 


IN  WAR  TIME.  227 

fellows  good.  It  seems  to  me  I  am  older  by  years 
in  these  few  months;  but  then,  for  people  who 
think  at  all,  there  is  time  and  material  here  for 
thinking,  and  much  to  learn  about  war  out  of  books 
on  tactics,  and  so  on,  with  practical  lessons  at  inter- 
vals. Edward,  who  was  always  the  boldest  man  I 
know,  keeps  writing  me  not  to  accept  needless  peril. 
Tell  him  I  do  not  mean  to.  It  is  really  necessary 
sometimes  for  officers  to  expose  themselves  as  ex- 
amples, when  men  are  shaky,  but  not  often.  I 
think  of  it  now  because  that  was  just  what  Fox  did 
yesterday.  We  are  all  lying  down,  or  in  shelter, 
having  made  a  stand  after  what  came  near  being  a 
stampede  ;  and  what  does  Fox  do  but  begin  to  walk 
up  and  down,  with  a  cigarette  in  his  mouth,  pre- 
tending to  be  using  his  field-glass.  I  got  up  as  he 
passed  me,  and  said,  'Let  me  do  that,  sir;'  and 
what  did  he  say  but  '  Lie  down,  or  you  '11  get  hit ; 
and  when  you  address  me,  sir,  be  good  enough  to 
salute.'  And  the  balls  were  as  thick  as  mosquitoes 
in  a  Jersey  marsh.  Oh,  Hester,  one  must  see  a 
\/  man  in  the  ennui  of  camp,  and  then  in  the  field,  to 
know  him.  It  seems  to  me  that  what  I  have  heard 
Dr.  Lagrange  say  of  disease  is  true  of  war.  It 
ruins  some  men  morally,  and  some  it  makes  nobler, 
—  like  my  brother  Ned !  " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Edward,  is  n't  that  just  like  Arty !  " 
said  Hester,  pausing. 

"  Arty  is  a  dear  old  goose  about  me,"  returned 
Edward.  "  He  thinks  I  am  a  patient  martyr,  but 
he  does  n't  know  how  much  I  have  wriggled  at  the 
stake." 


228  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  I  have  everything,  I  think,"  went  on  Hester, 
rising,  and  standing  thoughtfully  before  him,  the 
letter  in  her  hand,  —  "  everything ;  but  I  am  not 
as  patient  as  you  who  have  so  little." 

"  You  can't  count  another  man's  wealth,  child.  I 
have  my  little  Hester,  and  this  August  day,  and 
these  woods,  and  all  the  strange  world  I  am  peeping 
into." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  murmured  Hester,  softly,  the 
morn  of  womanhood,  that  was  waking  under  the 
fading  dusk  of  childish  indifferences  to  the  larger 
trials  of  life,  beginning  to  glow  with  warmth  of  ap- 
preciative feeling. 

"  It  is  n't  bad  for  any  one  to  know  how  much  he 
is  a  help  in  other  folks'  lives,"  continued  Edward. 
"  It  makes  him  better,  too,  I  dare  say.  And  now 
for  more  help.  Give  me  a  hand,  —  now  a  good 
pull.  I  must  heft  pretty  heavy,  as  Miss  Ann  says. 
We  '11  keep  the  rest  of  Arty's  letter  for  to-night. 
There  seems  to  be  a  lot  of  it,  and  it  is  late.  I  hope 
my  horse  has  kept  quiet.  I  wish  he  was  nearer ;  I 
am  pretty  tired." 

The  next  day  Hester  went  to  Newport,  whence 
she  wrote  to  Edward  often,  and  to  Arthur  rarely. 
Alice  perceived  well  enough  where  this  close  in- 
timacy of  two  attractive  young  folks  might  end, 
but  scarcely  saw  how  to  lessen  the  danger ;  and 
now,  feeling  more  and  more  that  she  disliked  the 
responsibility,  she  wrote  to  Mrs.  Morton  quite 
frankly,  but  only  to  learn  that  Morton  would  not 
return  until  he  was  fit  for  duty,  and  that  of  course 
she,  Mrs.  Morton,  did  not  fancy  the  idea  of  a  match 


IN  WAR   TIME.  229 

of  this  kind  at  all,  and  knew  Alice  would  discour- 
age whatever  might  make  it  a  possible  event  —  all 
of  which  left  Mrs.  Westerley  quite  as  helpless  and 
more  anxious  than  before,  and  not  much  comforted 
by  this  final  phrase  of  her  friend's  letter. 

"  For  after  all,"  she  wrote,  "  I  dare  say  you  are 
mistaken ;  and  then  young  men  always  have  one  or 
two  affairs  of  this  kind.  They  are  pretty  bad  for  a 
girl,  I  think,  but  they  do  not  hurt  men,"  —  which 
to  Alice,  who  was  very  much  attached  to  Hester, 
seemed  on  the  whole  to  partake  rather  strongly  of 
the  selfishness  of  maternal  affection,  and  to  be  a 
little  too  like  Helen  Morton,  who  was  apt  to  think 
first  of  her  own  children,  and  in  their  relations  to 
others  of  them  alone. 

Meanwhile,  Mrs.  "Westerley,  as  she  found,  had 
her  hands  full  at  Newport,  where  she  had  many 
friends,  and  where  it  was  difficult  always  to  leave 
Hester  out  of  the  constant  social  engagements  of 
that  charming  place. 

"  Luckily,"  she  wrote  to  Mrs.  Morton,  "  most  of 
\s  the  nicer  young  men  are  where  they  should  be,  at 
the  war ;  but  there  are  enough  and  too  many  older 
lads,  on  their  vacation  holidays ;  and  even  with 
your  ideas  and  mine,  it  is  hard  to  keep  this  very 
gay  young  lady  from  seeing  that  she  is  admired, 
and  from  being  disappointed  because  I  do  not  al- 
low her  to  go  about  as  she  does  at  Germantown." 

Nevertheless,  Hester  enjoyed  this  new  life,  and 
saw  enough  of  men,  old  and  young,  in  Mrs.  Wes- 
terley's  drawing-room  to  widen  her  horizon  as  to 
the  general  opinion  of  Miss  Gray. 


230  IN  WAR   TIME. 

With  some  little  interior  mutiny  of  criticism, 
Hester  came  to  yield  tranquilly  enough  to  her 
friend's  social  discipline,  and  to  observe  that  among 
the  class  of  girls  she  saw  and  found  pleasant,  the 
most  of  them  were  quite  as  much  controlled  as  she. 
Then  she  began,  as  Alice  delayed  leaving  Newport, 
to  enjoy  still  more  the  refined  culture  of  its  linger- 
ing lovers,  and  to  return  with  fresh  zest  to  outdoor 
enjoyments. 

"  Now,"  she  wrote  to  Wendell,  "  there  is,  as  it 
were,  a  new  spring,  —  just  as  if  the  flowers  had 
come  again  to  say  good-by ;  and  there  are  golden- 
rods  above  the  beaches,  and  little  dandelions, 
smaller  than  in  spring,  are  here  (I  don't  think  they 
are  true  dandelions,  but  I  left  my  Gray's  Botany 
at  home)  ;  and  then  there  is  a  purple  flower,  which 
an  old  lady  told  me  was  the  Michaelmas  daisy.  I 
think  it  is  an  aster,  and  so  pretty;  and  what  the 
people  call  freckled  alders,  with  red  berries.  And 
oh,  you  should  see  the  cliffs,  and  the  sea !  I  never 
saw  it  before,  and  now  it  seems  like  an  old  friend ; 
and  if  I  only  had  you  and  Arty  and  Edward,  I 
should  be  just  too  happy.  But  why  does  n't  Arty 
write  ?  We  have  ceased  to  hear  at  all." 

Arty  had  other  business  on  hand,  and  was  in  the 
thick  of  the  savage  fighting  that  resulted  in  the  de- 
struction of  the  Weldon  railroad,  and  of  which 
news  soon  reached  his  anxious  friends  at  the  North. 
Late  in  September  Mrs.  Westerley  returned  to  her 
home,  and  Hester  went  back,  with  no  great  satis- 
faction, to  her  school  life. 


XV. 

FOR  Wendell  and  his  sister  the  winter  brought 
little  visible  change.  The  great  plan  for  an  essay 
on  American  diseases  somehow  faded  away,  and 
was  as  yet  without  a  successor.  Dr.  Lagrange  had, 
however,  been  ordered  from  the  hospital,  and  a  new 
and  alert  volunteer  surgeon,  with  his  head  full  of 
improvements,  was  making  it  uncomfortable  for 
Wendell ;  so  that  his  hours  had  to  be  rearranged, 
and  he  felt  that  it  would  be  much  more  pleasant  to 
be  free  from  the  shackles  of  even  as  little  army 
discipline  as  his  relations  to  a  hospital  involved. 

Ann,  of  course,  altogether  disapproved  of  a  res- 
ignation by  her  brother.  The  money  loss  of  eighty 
dollars  a  month  seemed  to  her  a  very  serious  mat- 
ter ;  but  to  Wendell  his  personal  convenience  was 
far  more  important,  and  overruled  for  the  time  all 
other  considerations.  He  was  cautious  not  to  allow 
his  sister  to  suspect  that,  beside  the  difficulty  she 
found  in  meeting  their  daily  expenses,  —  for  Ann 
allowed  no  bills  to  accumulate  unpaid,  —  he  was 
annoyed  by  the  results  of  his  own  folly  in  buying 
new  lenses  and  expensive  books,  and  now  and  then 
some  rare  engraving. 

Had  young  Morton  understood  the  true  state  of 
things,  he  would  have  been  quick  to  aid  his  friends ; 


232  IN  WAR  TIME. 

but  he  knew  that  he  paid  them  liberally  for  the 
home  and  the  care  that  they  gave  him,  and  as  Wen- 
dell never  considered  or  talked  about  what  things 
cost,  and  Ann  was  too  proudly  self-sustaining  to 
allow  of  a  stranger  seeing  her  growing  necessities, 
Edward  lived  on  without  suspicion,  and  was  the 
more  likely  to  be  free  from  it  because  he  had  always 
been  so  lifted  above  money  cares  that  the  possibility 
of  them  was  the  last  thing  he  would  have  been 
likely  to  think  about. 

It  was  well  into  January  when  Ann  said  to  her 
brother,  "  I  am  sorry  to  trouble  you,  brother  Ezra, 
—  I  know  how  you  dislike  it,  —  but  I  must  have 
more  money.  I  save  what  I  can,  but  Mr.  Edward 
needs  all  sorts  of  luxuries.  I  did  think  that  when 
Hester  was  so  nicely  provided  for,  we  should  go 
along  more  comfortably." 

"  I  don't  see  where  the  money  all  goes,  Ann,"  he 
returned  helplessly.  "  I  am  sure  I  spend  very  lit- 
tle." 

"Are  you  certain  of  that,  Ezra?  There  was 
that  microscope,  and  "  — 

"  Oh,  Ann,  am  I  never  to  hear  the  last  of  that 
microscope ! " 

"  And  those  new  lenses,  —  were  n't  they  very 
dear?" 

"  No.  I  can  always  sell  them  for  what  they  cost. 
A  good  lens  is  just  like  gold." 

"  But  that  cyclopaedia." 

"  A  man  really  must  have  the  tools  of  his  profes- 
sion, Ann  ;  and  I  gave  up  all  idea  of  the  carriage." 


IN  WAR   TIME.  238 

Ann  groaned.  "I  do  wish  I  could  help  you 
more.  I  sometimes  think  I  am  of  less  use  to  you 
than  I  was  "  — 

,  Being  a  woman,  and  therefore  automatically  sac- 
rificial,  she  could  not  estimate  the  immense  pro- 
portion of  energy  she  thrust,  somehow,  into  his 
daily  life,  nor  recall,  in  her  self -negation,  how  often 
she  remembered  his  engagements,  or  urged  him  to 
leave  his  microscope  to  face  the  winds  of  a  cold 
night  to  make  some  professional  visit  which  he 
would  next  day  have  found  an  easy  excuse  for  hav- 
ing left  unpaid.  The  wonder  was  that  he  did  not 
seem  to  recognize  the  force  that  helped  to  give  to 
his  intelligence,  which  was  competent  enough,  what 
practical  utility  was  possible  for  it.  Of  course 
there  are  many  failures  in  such  relationships,  and 
despite  her  watchful  interest  Wendell's  professional 
life  was  far  from  reaching  an  ideal  standard  of  effi- 
cient duty. 

"  You  are  of  great  use  to  me  always,"  he  said  ; 
"  and  as  to  the  money,  I  have  many  good  bills,  and 
I  can  jog  the  memory  of  one  or  two  patients.  Now 
there  is  Jones." 

He  made  things  so  easy  with  his  comfortable 
out-look  that  Ann  was  satisfied  for  the  time,  or 
appeared  to  be. 

"  You  won't  forget  ?  "  she  entreated. 

"No." 

" Ezra,  is  your  practice  growing?  " 

"I  —  I  guess  so.  I  am  told  I  have  been  unus- 
ually successful,  for  a  new-comer.  People  do  leave 


234  IN   WAR   TIME. 

one,  you  know ;  but  that  is  what  every  man  has  to 
expect.  They  say  a  doctor's  whole  practice  changes 
every  ten  years." 

"  That  seems  strange  to  me,"  remarked  Ann. 
"  If  ever  I  needed  to  have  a  doctor,  I  should  n't 
want  to  change  him." 

"  Well,  people  do,"  returned  Ezra. 

In  fact,  he  had  been  fortunate.  At  the  time  we 
speak  of,  certain  country  neighborhoods  were  suf- 
fering for  want  of  physicians,  a  good  many  men 
who  were  just  on  the  borders  of  success  in  practice 
having  been  tempted  into  army  service ;  so  that 
those  who,  like  Wendell,  stayed  at  home  sometimes 
profited  by  the  opportunities  thus  left  open.  The 
Mortons  were  pleased  with  his  services,  and  Mrs. 
Westerley,  although  of  late  she  had  become  guarded 
in  mentioning  him,  had  often  enough  spoken  freely 
of  his  skill ;  so  that  he  had  picked  up  a  fair  number 
of  well-to-do  patients,  who  felt  that  the  new  doctor 
was  to  be  taken  more  or  less  on  trial.  As  time 
went  on  he  lost  a  larger  proportion  of  such  patients 
than  he  should  have  done.  He  was  in  every  way 
an  agreeable  and  amusing  visitor,  but  when  he  had 
to  sustain  the  courage  of  the  sick  and  satisfy  watch- 
/ful  friends  through  grave  illness  he  failed.  For 
some  reason,  he  did  not  carry  confidence  to  others  ; 
perhaps  because  he  was  unable  to  hide  his  mental 
unstableness,  which  showed  in  too  frequent  changes 
of  opinion.  Moreover,  his  love  of  ease  made  im- 
possible for  him  the  never-ending  daily  abandon- 
ment of  this  moment  of  quiet,  or  that  little  bit  of 


IN  WAR  TIME.  235 

tranquil  home  life,  which  every  wise  physician 
counts  upon  once  for  all  as  a  part  of  the  discom- 
forts which  he  must  accept  if  he  means  to  win  suc- 
cess. Some  men  overestimate  what  they  give,  and 
think  little  of  what  they  get  in  return.  "Wendell 
liked  to  believe  that  his  professional  life  was  made 
up  of  sacrifices ;  so  that  when  a  patient  left  him, 
and  sent  for  another  more  decisive  attendant,  he 
felt  a  certain  foolish  resentment,  into  which  the  no- 
tion of  ingratitude  entered,  and  which  made  him 
regard  with  bitterness  his  more  lucky  successor. 
Let  us  add  that  Alice  Westerley,  whose  interest  in 
him  was  fatally  growing,  was,  as  to  all  these  mat- 
U'ters,  an  unfortunate  friend.  She  was  quite  too 
widely  sympathetic  to  be  a  good  moral  tonic,  and 
knew  really  too  little  of  his  less  interesting  quali- 
ties to  acquire  the  sad  conviction  that  he  was  de- 
signed by  nature  to  illustrate,  soon  or  late,  the  cer- 
tainty of  failure  where,  although  the  machine  be 
competent,  its  driving  power  is  inadequate. 

But  a  man  must  be  very  blind  indeed  not  to 
recognize  sometimes  that  he  is  drifting  from  the 
course  he  meant  to  take,  and  Wendell  was,  as  I 
have  said,  by  no  means  defective  in  intellect. 
There  come  to  most  of  us,  in  fact,  times  of  unpleas- 
ant illumination,  when  we  are  forced  to  see  things 
as  they  would  appear  to  an  uninterested  or  abler 
observer ;  but  some  men  are  always  so  near  their 
moral  mirror  that  their  breath  obscures  the  image 
they  ought  to  see.  The  talk  with  Ann  made  her 
brother  unhappy  for  a  time,  and  brought  upon  him 


236  IN  WAR  TIME. 

one  of  the  dark  moods  which  she  so  much  dreaded ; 
nor  indeed  was  he  otherwise  without  good  cause  for 
unhappiness.  From  time  to  time  he  had  borrowed 
small  sums  from  Edward  Morton,  whose  generosity 
made  it  so  easy  that  somehow  the  weight  of  this 
gathering  debt  seemed  to  Wendell  to  be  of  little 
importance.  But  there  was  another  matter  which 
was  of  graver  moment.  Wendell  had,  after  some 
doubt  as  to  what  was  best,  taken  Wilmington's 
advice,  and  invested  in  his  own  name,  as  trustee, 
the  ten  thousand  dollars  deposited  in  his  hands 
by  Henry  Gray.  The  investment  being  in  govern- 
ment bonds  at  a  low  rate,  their  rise  towards  the 
year  1865  made  the  doctor  feel  that  there  was  a 
comfortable  margin  of  profit,  which  with  the  pas- 
sage of  time  must  enlarge.  At  first,  he  set  this 
aside,  as  belonging  to  Hester ;  but  by  and  by,  as 
his  own  difficulties  increased,  he  began  to  think 
that  he  was  entitled,  as  Gray  had,  no  doubt,  meant 
him  to  be,  to  some  share  in  her  good  fortune. 
There  was  reason  in  this,  but  Wendell  did  not  take 
the  first  positive  practical  step  without  moral  dis- 
comfort, nor  until  urged  to  it  by  unrelenting  cir- 
cumstances. His  own  and  his  sister's  inheritance 
amounted  to  but  six  thousand  dollars,  and  was  in- 
vested in  a  well-secured  mortgage  which  Mr.  Wil- 
mington had  recommended,  and  in  fact  found  for 
him.  The  rise  in  Hester's  securities  fatally  tempted 
him  to  seek  for  some  more  brilliant  return  from  his 
own  and  Ann's  little  property,  and  after  much  hesi- 
tation he  bought  stock  in  a  Western  road  which 


IN  WAR  TIME.  237 

had  been  rapidly  rising  in  price.  The  January 
dividend,  however,  had  not  been  paid,  and  the 
stock  had  fallen.  Then,  at  last,  when  Ann  asked 
him  for  the  usual  semi-annual  interest  on  their 
mortgage,  which  habitually  he  resigned  to  her  en- 
tire for  her  household  uses,  he  found  himself  in 
trouble.  If,  says  a  monkish  adage,  you  let  a  thin 
devil  slip  through  the  key-hole,  a  fat  devil  will  un- 
lock the  door. 

I  should  do  an  interesting  but  weak  nature  a 
wrong  to  presume  that  it  cost  him  nothing  to  rea- 
son himself  into  borrowing  enough  of  Hester's  cap- 
ital to  enable  him  to  give  to  Ann  the  money  she 
had  habitually  received.  The  rebel  cousin  had 
meant  to  give  his  relation  a  certain  sum,  but  owing 
to  Wendell's  wise  investment  it  now  much  exceeded 
that  amount.  The  excess  seemed  almost  as  much 
his  as  Hester's.  It  was  characteristic  of  him  that 
he  put  in  his  little  tin  box  of  private  papers  an  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  amount  thus  transferred,  but 
soon  he  found  it  convenient  to  add  to  it  a  second 
receipt ;  and  these  papers  were,  in  some  fashion,  a 
comfort  to  the  troubled  man,  who  by  habit  dwelt 
within  an  ever-widening  horizon  of  hopeful  possibil- 
ities, as  inexhaustible  as  the  growing  zone  of  suc- 
cessive mornings.  Like  all  who  tread  this  evil 
path,  he  honestly  meant  to  replace  what  he  took, 
and  nothing  could  have  surpassed  the  force  of  his 
conviction  that  he  would  do  so;  indeed,  to  have 
been  told  that  he  would  not  would  have  been  felt 
by  him  as  the  deepest  insult. 


238  IN  WAR   TIME. 

Meanwhile,  he  went  about  his  work  with  a  cer- 
tain renewal  of  vigor,  and  found  time  to  see  Alice 
Westerley  often.  She  had  begun  to  be  present  in 
his  day  dreams  as  one  of  the  brighter  planets  that 
were  slowly  rising  above  that  horizon  of  which  we 
have  spoken.  To  do  him  full  justice,  he  never 
thought  of  her  in  relation  to  money.  This  would 
have  been  unlike  his  gentle  and  poetic  temperament. 
He  of  course  knew  that  she  had  'means,  but  how 
great  he  did  not  know,  and  he  timidly  approached 
her  in  a  growing  tenderness  of  relation  which  his 
sister  did  not  suspect,  and  which  he  himself  was 
very  slowly  coming  to  apprehend  might  result  in 
something  still  more  tender. 

Early  in  March  Miss  Pearson's  school  broke  up, 
on  account  of  fever  in  the  neighborhood,  and  Hes- 
ter was  sent  away  in  haste,  while  the  doctor  was 
called  on  to  settle  a  number  of  bills  for  her  cloth- 
ing and  tuition. 

Nevertheless,  he  was  sincerely  glad  to  see  her, 
for  at  each  return  home  she  was  a  novel  and  charm- 
ing surprise  to  the  little  circle. 

"  A  butterfly,  indeed  !  "  exclaimed  Edward  Mor- 
ton. "  Could  any  one  have  imagined  Hester  would 
develop  into  such  a  noble-looking  woman  !  " 

Ann,  who  had  followed  with  her  eyes  the  retreat- 
ing figure,  with  its  straight  carriage  and  walk  of 
liberal  strength,  said  quietly  :  — 

"  Indeed,  the  girl  has  grown."  Ann  had  a  sense 
of  odd  uneasiness  at  the  sight  of  this  suddenly  com- 
pleted transformation.  What  should  she  do  with 


72V  WAR  TIME.  239 

her  ?  Then  the  girl  reappeared,  happy  at  the  es- 
cape from  school. 

"  Won't  some  one  walk  with  me  to  Mrs.  Wester- 
ley's  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Come,  uncle,  you  have  noth- 
ing to  do." 

Wendell  had  something  to  do,  but  it  was  not  in 
him  to  say  no. 

"  Come,"  he  said. 

"  And  don't  forget  Mrs.  Grace,"  remarked  Ann. 

"  No,  of  course  not." 

"  And  now,  uncle,"  cried  Hester,  clinging  to  his 
arm,  "  how  is  everybody  ?  And  why  does  n't  my 
cousin  write  ?  And  how  is  Mr.  Arthur  ?  And 
you,  —  last  and  best,  —  how  are  you  ?  " 

"  If  you  go  on,  I  shall  want  an  index  to  your 
inquiries,"  laughed  Wendell.  "  Cousin  Gray  is 
probably  engaged  in  the  laudable  occupation  of 
blockade  running,"  he  added. 

"  And  why  not  laudable  ?  "  queried  Hester,  who 
had  found,  during  the  last  school  term,  another 
Carolinian,  stranded  like  herself  among  what  the 
better  instructed  young  woman  called  with  empha- 
sis "  those  Yankees."  "  I  am  sure  you  will  under- 
stand why  I  must  have  my  own  feelings  about  the 
South.  But  I  think  you  always  did  understand." 

"  Yes,  yes,  dear,  well  enough,"  he  said ;  "  but 
don't  talk  more  than  you  can  help  about  the  war. 
It  makes  trouble,  in  these  days." 

"  No,"  she  replied,  looking  up  at  him,  and  lightly 
pressing  his  arm,  "  that  would  be  disloyal  to  you. 
I  am  a  featherhead,  Miss  Pearson  says,  and  Mrs. 


240  IN   WAR  TIME. 

Westerley  lectures  me  ;  but  there  are  some  things 
I  can  never  forget,  —  never  !  What  a  stupid  child 
I  must  have  been,  when  Miss  Ann  took  me  home ! 
—  and  it  seems  such  a  home  now  !  But  as  I  grow 
older,  I  think  about  my  father's  death,  and  Miss 
Ann's  kindness  and  yours  come  back  to  me,  and  I 
now  know  what  an  unusual  and  noble  thing  you 
did.  Ah,  I  know  it  well  now  !  " 

"  I  think  I  have  heard  a  little  of  this  before  from 
a  certain  young  woman,"  said  Wendell,  who  liked 
but  yet  was  always  embarrassed  by  praise. 

"  Yes,  I  know  ;  but  a  certain  young  woman  is 
certain  she  can  never  say  all  that  she  feels  about 
it." 

"  Let  it  be,  then,"  he  said,  tenderly,  "as  of  a 
service  from  "'  —  and  he  paused  a  moment ;  he  was 
about  to  say  "  an  uncle,"  but,  looking  aside  at  her 
face  turned  towards  him  in  its  stir  of  feeling,  why 
did  the  nominal  relationship  he  assumed  seem  all 
of  a  sudden  absurd  ?  Then  he  amended  his  phrase, 
"  Like  a  brother's  service  ;  to  be  remembered,  not 
paid  for  with  thanks." 

"  I  wish  I  could  say  things  as  prettily  as  you 
do !  Mr.  Arthur  says  it  is  because  you  have  a 
poet's  temperament." 

"  Arty  is  a  stupid  boy,"  returned  the  doctor,  not 
displeased. 

"  But  then,"  cried  the  girl,  laughing  merrily,  and 
pretending  for  a  moment  to  survey  him  critically, 
"  you  are  too  old  for  a  brother.  I  should  like  one 
about  Mr.  Edward's  age.  I  should  n't  like  old 
brothers." 


/#  WAR  TIME.  241 

Wendell  felt  that  at  thirty-two  it  was  rather 
hard  to  be  doomed  to  senility  by  those  pretty  lips. 

"  "Well,"  he  said,  after  they  had  chatted  some- 
what longer  about  the  Mortons,  and  had  stopped  to 
look  at  and  to  unroll  the  varnished  covers  of  some 
horse-chestnut  buds,  "here  is  Mrs.  Westerley's, 
and  I  shall  appeal  from  slandering  youth  to  the 
charity  of  a  woman  as  to  the  awful  question  of  my 
antiquity." 

"  I  don't  think  Mrs.  Westerley  will  agree  with 
me  ;  at  least,  she  never  does,"  returned  Hester,  de- 
murely. She  had  heard  a  little  about  the  two 
friends,  perhaps,  and  had  not  left  unused  her  own 
uncomfortably  keen  powers  of  observation.  Decid- 
edly, Miss  Gray  was  growing  in  many  ways ! 

"  I  will  join  you,"  he  remarked,  "  after  I  have 
seen  Mrs.  Grace." 

"  Oh,  is  that  dreadful  lady  alive  yet  ?  "  exclaimed 
Hester. 

"  Did  you  suppose  that  I  had  killed  her  by  this 
time  ?  "  he  returned. 

"If  I  were  her  doctor,"  said  Hester,  merrily, 
"  it  would  be,  '  Short  her  shrift,  and  soon  her 
lift!'" 

"What  a  depth  of  wickedness,"  he  said,  "and 
so  young,  too  !  "  and,  laughing,  he  left  her  at  Mrs. 
Westerley's  gate. 

Mrs.  Grace's  drawing-room,  as  she  liked  to  call 
her  parlor,  was  filled  with  a  sad  inheritance  of  se- 
pulchral grimness  in  the  way  of  mahogany  furniture 


242  IN   WAR   TIME. 

of  the  fashion  of  some  fifty  years  back.  Her  daugh- 
ters and  herself  had  striven  in  vain  to  induce  Mr. 
Grace  to  replace  it  with  something  of  more  modern 
form ;  but  black  haircloth  and  brass  nails  do  not 
wear  out,  and,  as  he  said,  "  What  is  the  use,  Mar- 
tha, of  new  furniture,  when  this  is  perfectly  good  ?  " 
Efforts  had  been  made  to  hide  it  with  tidies  of 
divers  workmanship,  but  the  mournful  sheen  of  the 
haircloth,  polished  by  much  sitting,  remained,  and 
no  art  could  conceal  the  sombre  scrolls  of  sofa  and 
chair  back,  which  Alice  Westerley  said  looked  as  if 
they  had  been  put  up  in  primeval  curl-papers  be- 
fore the  flood.  The  paint  was  a  little  dingy,  and 
on  the  wall-paper,  which  was  recent  and  much 
gilded,  were  hung  two  prints  :  one  of  the  death-bed 
of  Daniel  Webster ;  the  other  of  Henry  Clay,  in 
evening  costume,  addressing  a  morbidly  attentive 
Senate.  "  Daniel  Webster  was  a  friend  of  our 
family,"  explained  Mrs.  Grace  to  a  too  critical 
young  person,  "  and  then  my  husband  is  such  a 
tariff  man,  you  know." 

Wendell  looked  around  with  a  sensitive  shudder, 
and,  gasping  in  the  blast  of  dry  heat  from  a  fur- 
nace, began  to  wonder  why  the  opening  from  which 
it  came  should  have  been  called  a  register. 

"  I  give  it  up,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  as  Mrs. 
Grace  entered  the  room. 

Sarah  was  not  well,  and  it  must  be  malaria.  Did 
not  Dr.  Wendell  think  it  was  malaria?  He  did 
not,  but  he  knew  by  this  time  that  it  was  unwise 
to  dispute  Mrs.  Grace's  opinions,  and  also  useless. 


IN   WAR   TIME.  243 

He  therefore  advised  her  impassive  and  sallow 
daughter  to  eat  less  and  walk  more,  and  prescribed 
some  one  of  the  mild  remedies  which  neither  help 
nor  hurt ;  and  then  Sarah  was  dismissed,  and  Mrs. 
Grace,  now  that  she  had  him  alone,  began  to  take 
a  little  real  comfort  out  of  his  visit  in  the  shape  of 
a  flow  of  disconnected  talk,  made  up  of  inquiries  as 
to  other  people's  maladies  and  her  own  complaints. 
Wendell  had  a  reasonable  habit  of  reticence  about 
patients,  but  it  was  not  very  easy  to  escape  this 
practiced  inquisitor  without  vexing  her. 

"  So  Hester  has  come  home." 

"  How  on  earth  did  she  know  that?"  marveled 
the  doctor. 

"  And  I  do  hope  you  '11  keep  her  back.  I  did 
think  myself  she  was  rather  forward,  when  I 
last  saw  her.  You  know,  of  course,  I  speak  as  a 
friend." 

"  I  believe,"  returned  Wendell,  "  that  my  sister 
is  quite  equal  to  the  care  of  the  girl,  and  to  us  she 
seems  much  improved ;  and  then  her  good  friend, 
Mrs.  Westerley  "  — 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Westerley?"  said  his  hostess,  with 
rising  inflection,  interrupting  him.  "  Now  do  you 
quite  think  she  is  —  well,  just  the  kind  of  per- 
son"— 

"  She  is  the  best  woman  I  know,"  returned  Wen- 
dell, annoyed.  "  You  know,  I  am  sure,  that  she  is 
a  friend  to  whom  we  owe  a  great  deal  of  kindness." 

"  Oh,  I  thought  you  were  her  doctor !  " 

This  was  rather  confusing  to  Wendell,  and  he 
had  to  conceal  a  smile. 


244  IN   WAR  TIME. 

"  But,"  he  said,  "  she  is  never  ill.* 

"  Indeed  ?  I  thought  I  noticed  that  you  went 
there  a  good  deal." 

"  Yes,  I  see  her  now  and  then.  She  is  a  very 
good  friend  of  ours,  as  I  said,  and  my  sister  and 
she  have  so  much  in  common,"  a  statement  which 
would  have  amazed  equally  either  of  the  women  in 
question. 

"  Sisters  are  pretty  convenient,  you  know,"  broke 
in  Mrs.  Grace,  feeling  that  she  had  said  a  brilliant 
thing  and  wise.  "  I  do  think  I  ought  to  tell  you, 
as  a  friend,"  she  added,  "that  when  she  was 
younger  Mrs.  Westerley  was  thought  to  be  a  bit  of 
a  flirt,  you  know,  doctor  ;  and  then  she  made  such 
a  sad  match." 

"  I  have  never  seen  anything  in  her  to  make  me 
think  for  a  moment  she  deserves  such  a  character," 
he  replied,  endeavoring  to  answer  coolly. 

"  Well,  you  can't  change  my  opinions,"  said  Mrs. 
Grace  ;  "  and  may  be  it 's  a  question  of  time.  You 
will  find  out  some  day.  What  I  know  I  know,  and 
if  my  own  family  had  n't  suffered  I  might  think  I 
was  not  called  on  to  speak ;  but  I  guess  my  poor 
cousin  Fox  could  tell  a  different  story." 

"  What  ?     Colonel  Fox  ?     Impossible ! " 

"  Well,  you  may  think  so." 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  not  want  to  take  away  from 
me  the  liberty  to  think  no  ill  of  Mrs.  Westerley," 
he  said.  "  But  I  am  late,"  he  added,  glancing  at 
his  watch  as  he  rose.  "  I  must  go." 

"  And  of  course,"  returned  Mrs.  Grace,  "  what 


72V  WAR  TIME.  245 

I  have  mentioned  was  just  because  I  have  a  friendly 
interest  in  my  doctor.  You  know  I  need  hardly 
ask  you  not  to  repeat  it.  Sarah  says  people  do  so 
misunderstand  things." 

Wendell  moved  toward  the  door  little  dreaming 
that  Sarah,  who  had  thus  come  in  at  the  close, 
should  have  had  a  place  at  the  beginning  as  the 
text  of  this  little  sermon.  It  had  occurred  to  Mrs. 
Grace  that  if  things  came  to  the  worst  a  rising  doc- 
tor might  be  better  for  Sarah  than  no  one ;  and 
Colonel  Fox  did  not  appear  to  look  upon  Sarah 
with  even  a  second-cousinly  regard,  as  she  had  once 
feebly  hoped  he  might  do. 

When  Wendell  found  himself  in  Mrs.  Wester- 
ley's  drawing-room,  he  felt  as  if  he  had  come  from 
under  a  pall  into  sunlight.  Alice  and  Hester  were 
chatting  merrily,  and  the  elder  woman  was  advis- 
ing Hester  to  take  French  and  drawing  lessons. 
"  You  know,  dear,  you  have  quite  money  enough." 

"  Mr.  Edward  has  promised  to  read  German  with 
me.  I  think  I  shall  like  that.  Do  you  know,  Miss 
Pearson  does  not  mean  to  open  her  school  until 
fall !  " 

"  Well,  I  hope  by  that  time  Mr.  Gray  will  be 
heard  from,"  said  Mrs.  Westerley.  "  He  certainly 
will  have  something  to  say  as  to  your  future." 

"  And,"  asked  Wendell,  "  have  you  ever  thought 
it  possible  he  might  want  to  take  Hester  away  ?  I 
—  we  would  n't  like  that,  Hester." 

"  I  should  n't,  —  not  at  all !  But,"  springing 
to  her  feet,  "  I  promised  Miss  Ann  to  be  at  home 


246  IN   WAR  TIME. 

before  this  time!  May  I  come  and  dine  to-mor- 
row ?  " 

"Any  day,  every  day,  my  dear." 

"  Will  you  walk  home  with  me  ?  "  said  the  girl, 
turning  to  Wendell. 

"No;  I  have  some  patients  to  see."  He  had 
reflected  that  he  would  like  to  linger  in  Mrs.  Wes- 
terley's  pleasant  room,  and  efface  a  little  the  re- 
membrance of  his  last  visit.  Then  Hester  went 
away. 

"You  have  been  to  see  Mrs.  Grace?"  queried 
Alice.  "  Was  she  as  charming  as  usual  ?  " 

The  doctor  colored  slightly.  He  had  but  small 
control  over  his  face,  a  grave  defect  in  a  physician. 

"  Oh,  I  see !  "  she  continued.  "  I  am  a  favored 
subject." 

"  She  would  not  dare  to  speak  ill  of  you  to  me," 
returned  Wendell,  who  hardly  knew  what  to  say. 

"  Dare !  "  repeated  Alice.  "  She  would  dare  to 
say  anything  to  anybody  of  anybody.  I  sometimes 
marvel  at  the  courage  of  such  people." 

"  I  think  a  woman  would  have  to  be  both  very 
bad  to  abuse  you  and  very  brave  to  abuse  you  to 
your  friends,"  he  said,  —  "  you  who  are  so  good 
and  just  to  every  one." 

"  Do  you  really  think  that  ?  What  an  imagina- 
tive man!  " 

"I  may  not  be  as  good  as  —  as  all  your  friends 
ought  to  be,  but  I  don't  think  I  am  too  stupid  to 
understand  Mrs.  Grace." 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  returned  gayly.     " '  I  have 


/AT   WAR   TIME.  247 

my  opinions,'  as  Mrs.  Grace  would  say.  But  how 
goes  your  work?  I  mean  the  new  subject  you 
mentioned." 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  he  answered.  "  But  I  find  my 
hospital  getting  to  be  somewhat  in  the  way,  and 
I  do  suppose  I  should  be  better  able  to  attend  to 
what  is  of  permanent  value  if  I  gave  it  up." 

"Then  why  not  give  it  up?" 

"Partly,"  he  answered,  with  some  hesitation, 
"  because  the  money  is  convenient." 

"  Oh,  but  that  can't  matter  with  you  now,"  said 
Alice,  who  had  never  felt  what  it  meant  to  want 
money ;  "  and  I  should  think  you  would  do  far  bet- 
ter, even  in  the  way  of  money,  if  your  time  were 
more  your  own." 

"I  hardly  know,"  he  replied.  "I  sometimes 
wish  that  I  could  give  myself  up  to  research  alto- 
gether." 

"  It  does  seem  hard  that  you  cannot,  with  your 
capacities." 

"  How  good  you  are  to  me,  and  how  well  you  ap- 
pear to  be  able  to  enter  into  a  man's  life  and  am- 
bitions !  So  few  people  have  that  power.  I  can 
never  thank  you  enough.  But  good-by.  I  must 
go." 

"  You  are  going  ?     And  why  do  you  go  ?  " 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  stay  ?  " 

"Of  course  I  want  you  to  stay.  I  am  always 
glad  to  see  my  friends,"  she  added,  rather  promptly, 
perhaps  a  little  scared  at  what  she  had  said.  "  But 
don't  let  me  keep  you  if  you  are  busy." 


248  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"I  ought  to  go.  Indeed,  I  must  go,"  looking 
at  the  clock.  "Thank  you  once  more,"  and  he 
glanced  at  her  face  with  eyes  which  were  of  a 
pleasant  hazel,  and  now  strangely  wistful.  "  You 
have  the  divine  gift  of  healing."  Then  he  suddenly 
and  passionately  kissed  the  hand  he  had  taken. 
She  drew  it  away.  The  natural  recoil  was  enough 
to  alarm  a  man  so  sensitive.  "I  have  offended 
you !  "  he  said. 

"No  —  no  —  not  deeply,  but  go  away.  Don't 
stay,  —  pray  don't." 

"  Oh,"  he  exclaimed,  "  there  are  no  women  like 
you,  —  none ; "  and  so  left  her  standing  thoughtful 
by  the  wood-fire.  She  turned  thence  to  the  window, 
and  keeping  back  a  little  glanced  after  him,  with 
tender  softness  in  her  gaze. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  want  to  love  him  or 
not,"  she  murmured,  "  but  I  am  afraid  I  do.  Oh,  I 
am  afraid  I  do !  And  what  is  it  makes  me  afraid  ? 
I  wish  I  knew." 

Alice  Westerley  had  begun  her  early  social  life 
in  New  York  by  marrying  a  man  who  would  not 
have  excited  an  emotion  in  her  three  years  later. 
He  gave  her  all  that  money  could  buy ;  and  money 
was  as  abundant  with  him  as  a  successful  gambler 
on  Wall  Street  may  make  it.  He  died,  and  Al- 
ice learned  that  another  woman  and  her  children 
had  made  for  a  coarse-minded  man  his  real  home 
through  the  three  years  of  her  own  married  life, 
and  long  before.  At  the  end  of  a  year,  when  the 
executors  turned  over  to  Alice  her  large  share  of 


IN  WAR  TIME.  249 

his  estate,  she  did  at  once  what  she  had  meant  to 
do  from  the  moment  she  knew  of  her  husband's 
domestic  treachery.  She  sent  for  the  woman  who 
had  been  his  mistress,  and  who  had  been  left  un- 
cared  for,  and  said,  "  I  have  asked  you  to  come 
here  because  I  look  upon  you  as  Mr.  Westerley's 
wife,  in  God's  eyes,  and  I  have  made  arrangements 
to  turn  over  to  you  his  property."  This  she  did, 
to  the  woman's  amazement  and  to  the  disgust  of 
her  own  friends.  Then  she  took  the  little  fortune 
her  mother  had  left  her,  and  went  abroad.  Her 
father  was  alive,  and,  being  a  singular  person,  said 
she  was  right ;  that  it  was  a  nasty  business,  and  she 
was  well  out  of  it.  A  year  later  he  died,  and  the 
widow  was  again  a  rich  woman.  An  accidental 
visit  to  Helen  Morton  resulted  in  her  learning  to 
like  the  quiet  town,  where  soon  after  she  bought  a 
house.  This  was  the  woman  who  now  sat  down  on 
a  stool,  and,  looking  into  the  fire,  began  to  try  to 
analyze  her  own  feelings  and  true  desires.  Why 
was  she  afraid  ?  He  was  very  pleasant  to  her,  with 
his  large  eyes,  his  gentle  ways,  his  wide  range  of 
knowledge,  and  his  tender  dependence  upon  her. 
Was  it  that  after  all  she  did  not  entirely  like  this 
resting  upon  her  opinions?  Then  she  stirred  up 
the  failing  fire,  and  took  counsel  with  it.  It  was  a 
delicate  flattery  now,  but  would  it  be  always  so 
grateful  ?  "  Perhaps  I  expect  too  much,"  she  said 
to  herself;  and  after  a  good  deal  of  perplexed 
thinking,  it  came  to  her  how  delightful  it  would  be 
to  release  this  man  from  all  trammels,  and  have 


250  IN  WAR  TIME. 

him  free  to  realize  his  intellectual  dreams.  She 
well  knew  that  she  had  been  in  a  measure  unwise 
to  allow  him  to  anticipate  her  decision ;  for  now  it 
was  plain  enough  that  she  had  at  least  given  him 
the  permission  to  believe  that  he  might  love  her 
with  some  distinct  hope  of  success.  Then  she 
laughed  aloud,  in  a  little  scornfully  defiant  way, 
thinking  how  her  English  friends  would  cry,  "  A 
medical  man ! "  when  they  learned  that  she  had 
married  a  country  doctor.  "A  medical  man,  my 
dear,"  she  repeated  aloud.  "  But  I  am  not  married 
yet,"  she  murmured,  as  she  rose,  —  "  not  yet !  I 
would  like  to  have  a  little  time  to  myself ! "  and 
with  this  she  promptly  went  to  her  desk,  and  wrote 
to  Hester  that  she  had  some  errands  in  New  York, 
and  should  be  back  within  a  few  days.  Of  course 
Wendell  would  know  of  this ;  but  she  had  secured 
for  herself  a  respite,  without  which  she  felt  that 
she  was  unwilling  to  face  him  anew.  At  one  min- 
ute all  seemed  to  her  to  be  clear ;  at  another  her 
mind  was  obscured  by  a  doubt.  The  process  of 
mental  filtration  was  unsuccessful,  and  more  and 
more  she  came  to  recognize  the  fact  that  she  was 
too  agitated  to  consider  with  useful  calmness  a  mat* 
^  /  ter  into  which,  she  began  to  discover,  she  had  gone 
too  far  for  honorable  retreat. 


XVI. 

ON  the  day  after  this  interview,  Dr.  "Wendell 
had  two  unpleasant  surprises.  He  learned  that 
Mrs.  Westerley  had  gone  to  New  York,  and  was 
foolish  enough  to  recall  uneasily  for  an  instant  what 
Mrs.  Grace  had  said  of  her.  However,  he  went 
into  the  hospital,  and  came  out  early.  Ann  found 
him  seated  by  himself,  as  if  in  thought.  She  knew 
him  well. 

"  What  troubles  you,  Ezra,"  she  asked,  "  and 
why  are  you  home  so  soon  ?  " 

"  I  was  tired,"  he  returned  ;  "  and,  Ann,  I  am  to 
be  dropped  out  of  service  next  week.  They  are 
cutting  down  the  number  of  contract  surgeons." 

Ann  had  been  anticipating  this,  though  now  it 
had  come  it  gave  her  a  sharp  pang ;  but  she  said 
promptly,  with  sweet  and  helpful  cheerfulness, 
"  Well,  we  ought  not  to  be  altogether  sorry.  It 
will  give  you  more  time  to  see  patients,  and  you 
know  you  thought  about  resigning." 

"  Yes,  but  one  thinks  a  good  deal  before  taking 
so  decided  a  step.  It  does  seem  to  me,  Ann,  that 
we  are  very  unfortunate." 

"  Do  you  think  we  have  a  right  to  say  that, 
Ezra  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  about  the  right,"  he  returned,  im- 


252  IN   WAR  TIME. 

patiently.  "  I  have  the  blues,  Ann.  I  feel  like 
Said  in  his  tent.  Best  let  me  alone !  " 

"  Ah,  but  you  can't  be  let  alone,"  said  Hester, 
from  the  parlor.  "  Here  is  Mr.  Morton ;  and  have 
you  heard  the  news  ?  Mrs.  Morton  is  coming  home 
in  April." 

"  Indeed  !  "  exclaimed  Wendell,  now  forced  to 
rouse  himself. 

"  But  are  you  sick  ?  "  said  Hester,  in  quick  alarm, 
as  she  entered  with  Edward.  "Is  he  sick,  Miss 
Ann?" 

"  No  ;  he  has  only  had  some  bad  news,  and  may 
have  to  leave  his  hospital." 

To  Hester  this  did  not  represent  any  grave  ca- 
lamity, but  Edward  looked  serious.  He  had  now 
begun  to  suspect  that  the  Wendells  were,  for  some 
reason,  straitened  as  to  money. 

"  It  had  to  come,  of  course,"  said  Wendell. 
"  Soon  or  late  it  had  to  come.  Don't  let  us  talk 
about  it  any  more.  It  has  its  good  side,  like  many 
evils."  But  after  they  had  gone,  he  still  sat  mood- 
ily thinking.  He  had  already  used,  little  by  little, 
fifteen  hundred  dollars  of  Hester's  money,  —  bor- 
rowed it,  he  said  to  himself,  —  and  the  stock  he 
had  bought  was  still  falling,  and  now  he  was  about 
to  lose  his  contract  surgeoncy  !  He  was  with  rea- 
son afraid  at  times  of  the  constancy  with  which 
ideas  haunted  him  during  his  moods  of  despon- 
dency. It  seemed  to  him  as  if  there  were  some 
mechanism  of  torture  in  his  mind,  which  presented 
troubles  over  and  over  in  new  and  horrible  rela- 


IN   WAR  TIME.  253 

tions ;  for  he  was  imaginative,  as  we  have  seen,  and 
imagination  for  such  men  as  he  is  to-day  a  stern 
prophetess  of  evil,  and  to-morrow  a  flattering  mis- 
tress. Do  what  he  would,  —  and  the  thought  im- 
measurably distressed  this  sensitive  being,  —  he 
kept  thinking  about  Mrs.  Westerley's  money,  and 
how  surely  it  would  rescue  him,  and  how  often  it 
had  come  before  him  that  now  he  need  have  no 
fear  as  to  repayment  of  what  he  had  borrowed  from 
Hester's  means.  There  was  a  fiend's  cruelty  in 
the  conception  that  a  noble,  honest  creature  like 
Alice  was  ignorantly  making  it  easy  for  him  to  do 
a  shameful  thing,  and  not  suffer  for  it.  If  she 
should  ever  come  to  know  of  his  guilt,  what  then  ? 
Already  a  deepening  affection  was  creating  for  him 
a  clearer  sense  of  his  own  moral  degradation.  He 
got  up,  went  out  into  the  street,  and  walked  rap- 
idly, as  was  his  wont  when  depressed,  and  in  an 
hour  came  back,  more  quiet  in  mind. 

"  Come  in,  brother,"  said  Ann,  as  she  looked  out 
of  the  parlor  window.  "  Here  is  a  message  to  see 
Mr.  Wilmington." 

"  Indeed !  "  exclaimed  Ezra.  Mr.  Wilmington 
had  never  before  claimed  his  care,  and  so  little  a 
thing  as  this  made  him  feel  unreasonably  comforta- 
ble. "  I  will  go  at  once." 

"  Oh,  do  take  your  tea  first.  There  is  no  hurry 
about  it,  they  told  me." 

"  And  here  is  a  letter  from  Arty,"  said  Edward. 
"  No,  it  is  not.  It  must  be  from  Fox.  Yes,  it  is 
from  Fox." 


254  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"Open  it,"  said  Hester,  shortly,  "How  slow 
you  are !  " 

"  Why,  what  's  the  matter,  Hester  ?  "  returned 
Edward,  slowly  dividing  the  envelope,  and  play- 
fully retreating. 

"  I  must  know,"  she  said.  "  What  does  he  say  ? 
Who  is  it  from  ?  Why  don't  you  look  ?  " 

"  Ah,"  replied  Edward,  "  let  me  sit  down.  Wait 
a  moment,  —  I  must  read  it  first,"  and  he  checked 
her  with  his  raised  hand,  while  he  read  a  few  lines. 
"  It  is  n't  very  —  bad,  Hester.  I  was  dreadfully 
afraid,"  he  cried,  looking  up. 

"  Tell  me  at  once,"  she  demanded  imperatively. 

"  Hester !  "  exclaimed  Ann.     "  Hester  !  " 

"  Arty  is  wounded,"  said  Edward  ;  "  not  badly, 
—  not  badly  at  all;  a  flesh  wound.  Colonel  Fox 
writes  because  Arty  can't  use  his  arm.  Oh,  the 
dear  old  fellow  has  put  in  a  slip  for  Hester !  Why, 
where  is  she  ?  " 

"  She  went  out  of  the  room,"  returned  Ann  ;  "  I 
heard  her  go  upstairs.  Something  has  got  to  be 
done  about  these  tempers  of  hers.  Something  has 
got  to  be  done  !  " 

Ann  had  never  pursued,  in  her  educational  du- 
ties, the  letting-alone  system,  and,  having  been 
shocked  and  surprised  at  Hester's  abruptness, 
thought  well  to  knock  at  her  chamber  door  shortly 
after  herself  hearing  to  the  end  Colonel  Fox's  let- 
ter. If  all  this  little  display  of  short  temper  were 
about  the  war,  Hester  must  be  told  to  repress  it, 
for  every  one's  sake ;  and  if  it  were  simply  impa< 


7^  WAR  TIME.  255 

tience,  of  which  Hester  had  her  fair  share,  it  was 
Ann's  business,  as  her  present  guardian,  to  reprove 
it. 

At  first  there  was  no  answer  to  Ann's  knock. 

"  Hester !  "  she  called.  "  Hester,  open  the 
door !  " 

Still  there  was  no  reply. 

Then  Ann  shook  the  door-knob,  a  little  angry, 
and  a  very  little  uneasy. 

"Open  the  door  at  once.  Do  you  hear  me? 
Hester,  dear  Hester  !  " 

The  door  opened  suddenly,  and  Hester  appeared 
on  the  threshold,  drawn  up  to  her  full  height,  an 
angry  light  in  her  eyes. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ?  "  demanded 
Ann,  severely.  "  Are  you  sick  ?  And  why  did 
you  go  away  so  rudely  while  Mr.  Morton  was  read- 
ing?" 

"  I  —  I  wanted  to,"  said  Hester.     "  I  went "  — 

"  Goodness  !  '  Went ! '  I  know  you  went ! 
And  you  call  that  an  answer ;  and  pray,  child,  do 
you  think  you  are  behaving  yourself  properly  now? 
What  does  it  all  mean  ?  I  must  say  I  never  saw 
you  act  in  this  way  before." 

"  I  don't  know,"  murmured  Hester.  "  Cannot  I 
just  be  let  alone,  Miss  Ann  ?  I  want  to  be  alone." 

"  And  why  on  earth  do  you  want  to  be  alone  ?  Is 
it  because  you  were  alarmed  about  Arthur?  That 
was  natural  enough ;  but  really,  child,  I  don't  see 
why  there  should  be  all  this  fuss.  Colonel  Fox 
says  there  is  no  chance  of  his  losing  his  arm.  Upon 


256  IN  WAR  TIME. 

my  word,  Hester,  a  little  real  trouble  would  do  you 
no  harm !  " 

"  No  harm,"  repeated  Hester,  faintly,  —  "  no 
harm !  "  and  began  retreating  backward  into  her 
bedroom,  with  her  palms  raised  and  her  arms  ex- 
tended towards  Ann,  and  a  face  flushing  rapidly. 

"  Good  gracious,  what  a  fool  I  am  !  "  cried  Ann, 
seizing  her  in  time  to  guide  her  fall  on  to  a  lounge. 
"  Ezra !  "  she  cried.  "  Ezra,  come  here  quick ! 
Hester  is  sick  !  " 

Wendell  was  at  her  side  in  a  moment. 
/      "  It  is  only  a  nervous  attack,"  he  said  ;  "  don't 
be  worried.     Run  and  get  some  ice." 

While  Ann  was  gone  he  hastily  loosened  the 
girl's  dress,  and  waited,  watching  her. 

Meanwhile,  poor  Edward,  who  had  climbed  the 
stairs  wearily,  and  in  such  haste  as  was  unusual  to 
him,  reached  the  door  of  Hester's  room. 

"  What  is  it,  doctor  ?  "  he  asked,  anxiously,  and 
with  a  tremor  in  his  voice.  "  Is  she  ill  ?  " 

"No,"  answered  Wendell,  turning;  "but  give 
me  that  pitcher.  I  can't  leave  her,  or  she  will  fall 
off  the  lounge." 

Edward  came  in,  and  did  as  he  was  desired. 
Then  he  saw  for  a  moment  the  white  sweep  of  the 
girl's  neck  and  shoulders,  flushed  with  moving  islets 
of  blood  that  came  and  went,  the  signals  of  a  ner- 
vous system  shaken  by  a  storm  beyond  its  power 
to  bear.  He  drew  back  with  a  sense  of  awe  at  the 
sight,  ashamed,  as  it  were,  in  trouble  for  her  that 
she  should  be  thus  and  so  undisturbed. 


IN  WAR  TIME.  257 

"Here  is  Miss  Ann,"  lie  said,  hastily.  "For 
Heaven's  sake,  don't  let  Hester  know  I  was  here. 
I  will  be  in  my  room,  if  you  need  me." 

Then  he  limped  out,  a  little  dizzy,  as  happened 
to  him  at  times  if  moved  by  strong  emotion,  and 
supporting  himself  by  a  hand  on  the  walls  he 
reached  his  room,  and  fell  into  the  nearest  chair. 
The  patient,  tender-hearted  man  had  received  a 
new  hurt.  Of  late  he  had  been  mending,  and  a 
hope  had  come  to  him ;  but  now  he  was  like  one 
who,  after  shipwreck  in  a  strange  land,  awaking, 
sees  a  color  in  the  sky,  and  knows  not  yet  if  it  be 
dusk  or  dawn. 

The  gay-hearted  girl  who  had  grown  up  by  his 
side,  who  with  him  was  never  impatient,  who  had 
shared  his  books  and  his  new  pursuits,  and  had 
filled  his  crippled  life  with  a  new  and  wholesome 
sweetness,  was  to  be  his  no  more  even  in  thought ; 
for  now  it  was  all  plain  to  the  gaunt  young  fellow, 
made  over-sensitive  by  pain,  until  he  had  attained 
a  more  than  womanly  appreciation  of  the  feelings 
and  griefs  of  others. 

"  What  a  blind  idiot  I  have  been  !  It  is  Arty 
she  loves !  "  he  cried,  as  he  sat  with  his  hands  on 
his  knees,  looking  with  wide  eyes  far  away,  like 
Browning's  lion,  into  the  drear  desert  of  his  doubly 
sterile  life. 

Then  tears  came  to  his  help,  and  he  laughed  as 
with  a  quick  hand  he  cleared  them  from  his  eye- 
lids, —  laughed  to  think  that  he  had  become  phys- 
ically so  feeble  as  to  recognize  without  a  man's 


258  IN  WAR  TIME. 

shame  the  strange  easement  of  tears.  But  of  a  sud- 
den the  future  leaped  upon  him,  and  tore  him  with 
the  claws  of  brutal  realities  that  were  to  be ;  and 
he  saw  before  him  lonely  years  of  pain  and  slow, 
enfeebling  sickness,  and  had  a  prophetic  sense  of 
the  fading  of  his  appetite  for  the  new  things  with 
which  of  late  he  had  learned  to  sweeten  the  meagre 
cup  of  life.  He  also  saw  Hester,  tall  and  blushing, 
a  bride,  and  then  a  matronly  woman.  It  did  seem 
to  him  that  no  possible  pang  had  been  spared  him. 
For  his  country  in  her  bloody  struggle  he  had  felt 
as  those  feel  who  say  little.  He  had  been  con- 
demned to  possess  in  patience  a  soul  meant  for 
lordship  where  death  was  nearest,  and  now  had 
come  this  rival  anguish. 

It  is  not  wonderful  that  where  their  religion  does 
not  give  men  a  woman -god  in  whose  lap  to  cry 
they  manage  in  some  way  to  create  such  a  resource, 
or  at  least  some  approach  to  the  sweet  pitifulness 
of  a  god-like  maternity.  It  was  his  mother  the 
young  man  thought  of  now ;  wishing,  in  his  fresh 
agony,  that  he  could  bury  his  head  in  her  lap  and 
be  her  little  Ned  again,  and  weep  out  unquestioned 
this  great  sorrow. 

At  last  he  rose  unsteadily,  and  tried  to  walk 
about,  and  seeing  his  own  face  in  the  glass  was 
shocked  at  its  expression. 

"  Oh,  this  won't  do !  "  he  cried  impatiently,  and 
set  himself  to  quiet  with  resolute  self-rule  the  storm 
within  him. 

By  and  by  Wendell  knocked  at  his  door. 


Jw 


/AT   WAR   TIME.  259 

"  Come  in,"  he  answered.  "  Is  —  is  she  all 
right?" 

"  Why,  of  course,"  returned  Wendell.  "It  was 
merely  a  nervous  turn.  But  what  is  the  matter 
with  you,  Edward  ?  " 

"Nothing  much.  I  am  not  very  strong,  and  I 
suppose  Hester's  little  upset  was  too  much  for  me. 
That  and  the  letter,  you  know.  I  think  I  shall  lie 
down." 

"Well,  I  would,"  assented  Wendell.  "Hester 
will  be  well  enough  to-morrow.  I  suppose  that  she, 

',  was  taken  aback  by  the  colonel's  letter;  but 
girls  are  so  easily  made  nervous,  and  I  fancy  Ann 
was  rather  sharp  with  her.  It  is  really  curious  how 
little  patience  or  sympathy  the  best  of  women,  if 
they  are  strong,  have  with  a  woman's  nervousness ! 
I  do  certainly  hope  the  child  is  not  going  to  be  a 
nervous  young  woman.  I  can't  imagine  a  worse 
fate  for  any  one  !  " 

"  I  hope  not,"  replied  Edward ;  and  the  doctor 
left  him. 

Mrs.  Westerley  returned  three  days  later,  and 
found  quite  enough  to  employ  all  her  energies. 
Wendell,  who  knew  from  her  servants  when  she 
was  expected  to  return,  was  foolish  enough  to  meet 
her  at  the  station.  He  was  in  that  state  of  uneasi- 
ness and  doubt  which  the  passage  of  time  is  sure  to 
bring  to  a  man  who  feels  that  enough  has  been  said 
to  give  him  hope,  but  not  enough  to  secure  what 
has  become  more  and  more  a  yearning  need  in  life. 


260  IN   WAR   TIME. 

Also,  there  had  arisen  in  his  singularly  constituted 
nature  another  trouble.  He  began  to  feel  a  strange 
bitterness  at  the  thought  that  if  he  married  Alice, 
or  perhaps  in  any  case,  he  would  lose  out  of  his  life 
the  proportion  of  affectionate  comradeship  which 
Hester  had  brought  into  it.  Her  beauty  of  form, 
her  alert  intelligence,  even  her  little  mutinies,  were 
very  pleasant  to  him.  Like  Edward,  but  less  dis- 
tinctly, he  had  comprehended,  or  at  least  suspected, 
the  meaning  of  Hester's  reception  of  the  news 
of  Arthur's  wound ;  and  as  he  was  right-minded 
enough  about  women,  and  by  reason  of  his  refine- 
ment of  character  a  man  of  more  than  common 
purity  of  word  and  deed  where  they  were  con- 
cerned, he  was  troubled  at  his  own  state  of  mind. 
Was  he  jealous  ?  he  asked  himself.  Had  he  been 
a  more  profound  and  experienced  student  of  pecul- 
iar human  natures,  he  might  have  known  that  his 
feeling  in  regard  to  Hester  was  merely  one  of  those 
ybrief  despotisms  which  an  idea  sometimes  creates  in 
persons  of  his  mental  constitution.  The  mystery  of 
it  was,  however,  far  beyond  his  power  to  explain, 
and  the  fact  itself  simply  shocked  him. 

His  wish  to  meet  Mrs.  Westerley  at  the  station 
was  brought  about,  in  part  at  least,  by  his  almost 
painful  disgust  at  his  own  state  of  mind,  and  his 
hasty  resolve  to  end  his  doubt,  and  reach  a  point 
where  indecision  would  be  impossible. 

The  station  was  crowded,  and  the  air  full  of 
excitement.  Men,  women,  soldiers,  and  officials 
thronged  the  platforms,  and  the  newsboys  were 


IN  WAR  TIME.  261 

crying,  "  Great  news  from  the  front !  "  Sherman 
was  driving  Johnston  before  him,  and  Grant  was 
enveloping  Lee's  fated  army. 

Amidst  the  crowd  Wendell  found  Mrs.  Wester- 
ley.  She  colored  as  he  came  up  to  her.  She  was 
both  pleased  and  vexed. 

"  Why  did  you  come  ?  "  she  asked,  speaking  low. 
"  My  maid  is  with  me." 

Wendell  was  annoyed  and  embarrassed.  He  saw 
his  mistake. 

"Make  some  excuse,"  she  added,  gently,  "and 
leave  me  ;  and  don't  be  displeased,"  she  continued, 
seeing  his  troubled  face. 

"I  beg  pardon,"  said  Wendell,  cut  down  to  a 
lower  level  by  this  calming  reception.  "I  was 
looking  for  some  one,"  he  stammered.  "  Sorry  to 
leave  you.  Good-by." 

"Good-by,"  she  said,  as  Wendell  turned  and 
went  away,  showing  but  too  clearly  the  discomfiture 
he  so  profoundly  felt. 

"These  men!  These  men!"  murmured  the 
widow,  smiling.  Then  she  went  home  and  wrote 
Hester  a  note,  asking  her  to  dine  with  her  next 
day ;  and  would  Dr.  Wendell  kindly  see  Mrs.  Wes- 
terley  about  some  Sanitary  Commission  business  at 
one  o'clock. 

At  eleven  the  next  morning  Alice  was  called 
downstairs  to  see  Miss  Clemson,  who  had  come  on 
business.  They  had  been  having,  said  Miss  Clem- 
son,  no  end  of  trouble,  the  last  few  days,  about 
Mrs.  Grace,  and  several  ladies  thought  that  Mrs. 
Westerley  should  become  president. 


262  /.v  WAR  TIME. 

"  But,"  replied  the  widow,  "  Mrs.  Morton  will  be 
at  home  by  the  20th,  and  indeed  I  would  much 
rather,  on  the  whole,  not  come  into  contact  with 
Mrs.  Grace.  She  has  been  amusing  her  leisure 
with  my  affairs,  I  learn,  and  if  I  had  to  cross  her 
I  should  probably  say  more  than  I  want  to  say.  I 
will  gladly  resign,  if  you  think  best." 

"  But  that  would  be  most  undesirable.  The 
woman  is  in  a  small  minority,  but  she  seems  to  be 
so  made  that  really  the  competence  of  numbers  ap- 
pears not  to  affect  her.  I  do  not  doubt  that  there 
are  times  when  she  believes  one  and  one  make 
nine!" 

"  I  have  my  opinions !  "  rejoined  Alice,  laughing. 

"  I  would  go  to  the  office  to-day,  Mrs.  Wester- 
ley.  She  told  us  on  Friday  that  she  had  taken 
home  your  account  book,  —  I  mean  the  treasurer's 
accounts,  which  you  have  so  kindly  kept  since  Miss 
Graham's  illness." 

"  What!  "  cried  Alice ;  "  she  took  it  home  !  " 

"Yes.  I  hesitated  to  tell  you  about  it,  but  I 
thought  you  should  be  told." 

"  And  what  else  ?  "  inquired  Alice. 

"She  informed  us  on  Saturday  that  she  and 
Sarah  —  imagine  it,  my  dear!  she  and  Sarah  — 
could  not  make  it  balance !  " 

"  And  is  this  all  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Westerley. 

"Yes." 

"  Then  wait  a  moment,"  said  the  widow,  ringing 
the  bell  sharply.  "My  ponies,  John,  and  make 
haste.  I  will  be  down  in  a  minute,  Miss  Clemson." 


IN   WAR   TIME.  263 

On  their  way  to  the  office,  Mrs.  Westerley  called 
at  Mrs.  Grace's,  somewhat  to  the  alarm  of  her 
friend,  who  began  to  be  conscious  that  Mrs.  Wes- 
terley's  quietness  was  simply  the  enforced  calm 
which  hides  for  a  time  some  latent  anger. 

Mrs.  Grace's  was  never  a  well-managed  house, 
and  it  was  not  until  after  several  vigorous  pulls  at 
the  bell  that  the  door  was  opened  by  an  untidy 
maid,  who  ushered  the  ladies  into  the  mournful 
splendor  of  Mrs.  Grace's  parlor. 

Alice  looked  at  Miss  Clemson,  with  amusement 
in  her  eyes.  Evidently  there  had  been  a  hasty  es- 
cape effected  from  the  back  room,  since  two  empty 
rocking-chairs  were  still  in  active  motion. 

"  What  a  touch  that  would  be  on  the  stage ! " 
said  Alice. 

"  And  what  an  awful  bit  of  circumstantial  evi- 
dence !  "  returned  Miss  Clemson. 

"  We  have  given  Sarah  an  occasion  for  a  little 
exercise." 

By  this  time  the  maid,  much  rearranged  as  to 
her  dress,  returned  with  a  statement  that  Mrs. 
Grace  was  at  the  Sanitary ;  and  thither,  accord- 
ingly, they  drove,  Miss  Clemson  remarking  on  the 
way, — 

"  You  will  not  let  that  woman  disturb  you,  Mrs. 


"  Oh,  no !  I  mean  to  disturb  her.  Is  n't  it  dread- 
ful to  think  that  we  women  have  no  weapon  but 
our  tongues  ?  " 

"  The   men   are   no  better  off,"  returned  Miss 


264  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Clemson.  "  What  more  can  they  do,  nowadays, 
than  we  ?  The  duel  is  dead." 

"  If  I  were  a  man,  I  could  wish  it  were  not. 
Theoretically  I  am  in  favor  of  it." 

"  Oh,  no,  dear,"  protested  Miss  Clemson  ;  "  it  is 
so  illogical." 

"  And  so  am  I,"  said  Alice.  "  I  hate  logical  peo- 
ple ;  and  that  must  be  just  the  time  when  one 
wants  the  duel,  when  one  feels  illogical." 

"  Well,  here  we  are,"  said  Miss  Clemson,  as  they 
drew  up  in  front  of  the  local  office  of  the  famous 
Commission.  The  great  news  of  the  fight  at  Five 
Forks  had  just  come  in.  Mrs.  Westerley  found 
Mrs.  Grace  discussing  the  matter  with  one  or  two 
other  ladies. 

"  We  have  lost  twenty  thousand  men,"  said  she, 
"  and  soon  we  shall  have  no  soldiers  to  fight  with. 
There  won't  be  one  left." 

"  Nonsense,"  returned  Miss  Susan,  to  whom  dif 
f erence  of  years  was  of  small  moment.  "  Lee  will 
surrender  in  a  month.  Pa  says  so." 

"  I  think,"  answered  Mrs.  Grace,  "  that  we  have 
just  begun.  No  one  knows  where  it  will  end." 

Mrs.  Westerley  touched  her  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Come  into  the  back  room,"  she  said,  in  a  clear, 
sharp  voice,  while  every  one  looked  up,  startled. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Grace. 

"  Just  a  little  talk,"  rejoined  Alice.  "  You,  too, 
Miss  Clemson." 

As  they  entered  the  empty  room  Alice  closed  the 
door. 


IN  WAR  TIME.  265 

Sudden  calls  on  her  emotions  made  this  woman 
cool  and  effective,  if  her  affections  were  not  con- 
cerned. Without  raising  her  voice,  but  with  an 
accurate  distinctness  of  speech,  she  said,  — 

"Mrs.  Grace,  you  took  home  my  accounts  last 
week  without  authority,  and  were  so  good  as  to  say, 
—  you  will  correct  me,  Miss  Clemson,  if  I  am 
wrong, — you  were  so  obliging  as  to  say  that  the 
accounts  do  not  balance.  May  I  ask,  was  that  as- 
sertion meant  to  give  the  idea  that  I  had  been  care- 
less, or  what  ?  " 

Mrs.  Grace,  like  large  masses,  was  not  easily 
moved,  and  having  been  in  similar  troubles  before 
knew  that  with  most  people  it  was  possible  to  es- 
cape at  no  larger  cost  than  words,  which  with  her 
were  abundant,  and  of  no  fixed  or  unchangeable 
value. 

"  Oh,  but  I  never  supposed  there  could  be  such 
a  fuss.  I  just  thought  I  had  a  right ;  and  Sarah, 
she  's  so  apt  at  arithmetic." 

"You  do  not  answer  me,"  said  Alice.  "What 
did  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  did  n't  mean  anything,  and  I  guess  I  'd  bet- 
ter go." 

"  This  will  not  do,"  exclaimed  Alice,  placing  her- 
self between  Mrs.  Grace  and  the  door.  "  You  have 
done  a  mean  and  dishonorable  act.  You  have  slan- 
dered me  grossly,  and  now  you  have  not  the  cour- 
/age  to  stand  by  your  actions!  If  we  were  men, 
madam,  I  should  use  something  more  than  words ; 
and  you  would  have  deserved  it^  too." 


266  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Mrs.  Grace  was  angry,  but  she  was  also  alarmed. 
Alice  looked  as  if  her  sex  might  not  always  enable 
her  to  resist  a  desire  so  earnestly  stated. 

"  I  won't  stay  here  to  be  insulted ! "  cried  Mrs. 
Grace.  "  I  —  I  '11  call  the  police !  " 

"  Stuff !  We  are  not  men,  luckily  for  you,  but 
still  you  must  hear  what  I  have  to  say.  You  must 
either  apologize  to  me  before  the  women  in  the 
outer  room,  or  retire  from  the  Commission." 

"And  if  I  won't  do  it?" 

"Do  what,  madam?" 

"  Why,  just  either !  " 

"  Then  I  must  resign,  and  we  shall  see  which  of 
us  the  board  will  choose  to  lose." 

Mrs.  Grace  knew  pretty  well  what  would  happen 
in  this  case,  it  having  been  made  clear  to  her  the 
week  before  by  several  outspoken  women. 

"  And  what  do  you  want  me  to  say  ?  " 

"  Anything,"  replied  Alice.  "  Tell  them  you  are 
sorry.  I  don't  want  you  to  clear  my  character  for 
me  ;  but  one  word  more.  I  had  not  meant  to  say 
to  you  anything  of  another  matter  touching  which 
you  have  been  pleased  to  gossip  of  late,  but  let  me 
add  only  this :  that  it  must  stop,  and  that  if  I  ever 
again  hear  that  your  tongue  has  been  busy  with  my 
affairs  I  shall  be  able  to  find  a  man  somewhere 
who  will  talk  to  your  husband." 

"  Oh,  no  doubt !  "  Mrs.  Grace  rejoined,  recover- 
ing herself  a  little. 

Alice  looked  at  her  with  a  faint  smile  of  scorn, 
and  saying,  "I  shall  be  as  good  as  my  word 


IN  WAR  TIME.  267 

Thank  you,  Miss  Clemson,"  swept  out  of  the  room 
and  through  the  office  to  her  ponies,  leaving  her 
foe  to  say  what  she  pleased,  and  Miss  Clemson  to 
see  that  justice  was  done. 

Mrs.  Grace,  inwardly  thankful  that  this  high 
judgment  had  been  pronounced  apart,  managed,  on 
Miss  Clemson' s  appeal,  to  make  some  kind  of  dis- 
jointed apologetic  statement,  and  then  went  home, 
as  dully  angry  as  her  nature  allowed  her  to  be. 
She  really  had  not  the  power  to  feel  that  she  had 
been  guilty  of  a  crime,  and  with  her  sense  of  hav- 
ing been  put  down  and  lectured  unjustly  came  a 
sluggish  desire  for  something  which  in  the  mind  of 
a  quicker  being  would  have  been  called  revenge. 
Mrs.  Grace  felt  that  it  would  be  nice  if  she  could 
stick  pins  into  the  widow,  and  physically  hurt  her 
a  good  deal. 

The  next  day  she  had  occasion  to  wail,  by  letter 
to  Colonel  Fox,  over  her  temporary  failure  to  re- 
ceive certain  moneys  ;  as  by  this  time  she  had  lost  a 
little  of  her  dread  of  Mrs.  Westerley,  it  was  not  in 
her  nature  to  omit  all  mention  of  her  among  the 
bits  of  news  with  which  she  enlivened  her  letters  of 
business.  Mrs.  Grace  was  cautious,  however,  and 
only  expressed  her  pity  that  Alice  Westerley  was 
going  to  marry  a  poor,  unsuccessful  doctor  like 
Wendell;  certainly,  her  friends  must  regret  it. 
Not  that  she,  Mrs.  Grace,  knew  it  herself,  but  she 
believed  there  was  n't  much  doubt  of  it.  And  did 
Colonel  Fox  know  that  Morton  wouldn't  come 
home,  there  being  an  Italian  lady  in  the  case,  and 


268  IN  WAR  TIME. 

that  Helen  Morton  was  expected  to  come  alone, 
poor  thing,  and  she  was  so  unhappy  ? 

This  letter  did  not  reach  Fox  for  several  days. 
In  command  of  a  brigade  of  Ord's  division,  he  was 
following  Lee's  retreat,  and  was  urging  on  his  men 
with  an  energy  that  left  them  little  repose.  Arthur, 
with  his  arm  in  a  sling,  and  now  a  captain,  would 
listen  to  no  prudent  counsels,  and  Fox  had  it  not 
in  him  to  keep  the  young  soldier  out  of  the  last 
scenes  of  the  tragedy  which  was  closing  in  blood 
and  despair  on  the  Appomattox. 

Such  of  us  as  lived  through  those  days,  and  had 
dear  ones  in  that  awful  joust  of  arms,  may  yet  re- 
call the  never-ending  anxiety  with  which  we  opened 
the  morning  paper,  and  the  thrill  with  which,  in 
the  dead  of  night,  the  cry  of  the  newsboy  on  the 
street  made  us  sit  up  and  listen.  To  the  little  cir- 
cle of  Arthur's  friends  the  closing  days  of  the  Con- 
federacy were  full  of  dread.  At  any  moment  a 
,  telegram  from  New  York  might  warn  them  of  Mrs. 
Morton's  arrival,  and  out  of  this  savage  death 
wrestle  what  news  might  meet  her  ! 

Hester  was  quiet  and  preoccupied,  and  helped 
Ann  at  her  work  with  a  fervid  restlessness.  Ed- 
ward had  gone  to  New  York  to  meet  his  mother. 
He  had  written  to  his  brother  as  soon  as  he  had 
felt  able  to  use  a  pen,  and  had  said,  "I  think, 
Arty,  that  if  by  any  chance  you  are  hurt  again,  or 
perhaps  in  case  of  any  trouble,  you  or  Fox  had 
better  write  under  cover  to  Wendell,  or  to  Mrs. 
Westerley.  The  account  of  your  hurt  upset  Hester 


IN   WAR  TIME.  269 

so  much  that  I  feel  it  would  not  be  wise  to  have  to 
tell  her  again  any  bad  news ;  and  then  there  is 
mother,  too.  But,  please  God,  there  will  not  be 
any  more  bad  news  !  Hester  is  all  right  now." 

Alice  Westerley  had  seen  Dr.  Wendell  more 
than  once  since  her  return ;  but  she  had  been  busy 
in  opening  the  Morton  house,  and  had  managed 
with  more  or  less  success  to  keep  her  lover  from 
exacting  an  absolute  promise.  She  felt  that  she 
was  exercising  over  him  a  control  which  was  for 
her  desirable,  but  which  in  her  secret  heart  she 
wished  he  submitted  to  with  less  patience. 

On  the  morning  of  April  9th  came  a  letter  from 
Arthur  to  Mrs.  Westerley.  He  wrote  :  "  I  do  not 
trouble  you  often  with  letters,  but  Ned  tells  me 
that  the  colonel's  letter  upset  Hester,  which  is  very 
annoying,  because  I  had  it  read  over  to  me  to  be 
sure  it  would  n't  shock  any  one.  I  suffered  little 
until  the  afternoon  of  the  5th,  when  we  were 
pushed  on  by  Ord,  along  with  a  squadron  of  cav- 
alry, to  burn  the  bridges  at  Farmville  on  the  Ap- 
pomattox.  It  was,  as  we  know  now,  a  race  for  the 
river.  General  Read  gathered  a  lot  of  dismounted 
cavalry  about  the  bridge,  and  some  of  ours,  my 
company  and  another,  got  on  it,  but  had  no  time  to 
burn  it  or  to  make  any  covers,  because  in  a  few 
minutes  Lee's  advance  was  on  us,  and  I  knew  what 
a  hopeless  and  gallant  thing  poor  Read  had  done. 
The  rebels  streamed  down  on  the  bridge  and  just 
swept  us  away  like  flies.  Read  was  killed,  and  for 
a  moment  it  was  a  wild,  free  fight,  for  we  did  not 


270  IN   WAR  TIME. 

let  them  off  easy  ;  but  they  were  too  many  for  us, 
and  the  few  not  killed  were  pushed  over  into  the 
river.  Tell  Ned  it  was  n't  any  worse  than  a  rush 
at  football  at  St.  Paul's.  I  was  down  and  up  twice, 
and  as  my  right  arm  was  no  good  I  had  a  bad  time. 
Luckily  I  was  not  hit,  but  I  was  knocked  over  into 
the  mud  of  the  river  just  as  they  swept  by  at  the 
end  of  the  row,  and  saw  fellows  shooting  at  me  as 
if  I  were  a  mud  turtle.  I  can  tell  you  I  wriggled 
out  into  the  stream  pretty  quick,  and  in  a  moment 
got  under  the  bridge,  on  a  stump  near  the  water ; 
and  you  won't  believe  it,  but  I  laughed  when  the 
rebs  tore  over  the  bridge  they  had  won.  I  got 
caught  as  I  was  trying  to  find  my  way  somewhere  ; 
but  our  people  were  hard  after  them,  and  the  poor 
fellows  were  so  near  dead  of  fatigue  that  I  got  off, 
and  on  the  morning  of  the  7th  fell  in  with  Hum- 
phrey's advance.  By  George,  I  was  glad !  I  told 
the  general  all  about  how  the  rebs  were  used  up, 
but  somehow  they  gave  him  a  sound  dressing,  I 
hear,  just  after  I  went  to  the  rear.  I  was  all  sore 
bones  and  Appomattox  mud,  and  well  played  out ; 
so  are  the  Johnnies,  but  I  shall  be  all  right  in  a 
week,  and  they  won't,  poor  fellows !  I  am  told  by 
the  surgeon  that  I  must  go  home,  and  as  the  row  is 
about  over  I  am  glad  enough.  So  hurrah  for  clean 
sheets  and  a  good  dinner  !  My  regards  to  Hester. 
I  have  n't  the  pluck  to  write  another  letter.  Fox 
lost  a  bit  of  his  left  whisker,  and  of  course  got  in 
the  way  of  a  minie,  and  has  a  trifling  flesh  wound. 
He  ought  to  hang  his  uniform  up  in  Twelfth  Street 


IN  WAR  TIME.  271 

Meeting  House,  as  the  Eomans  did  their  shields  in 
the  temple  of  Mars." 

Hester  was  on  her  guard  this  time,  and  heard 
the  young  man's  characteristic  letter  with  equanim- 
ity. Then  she  said  to  Alice  that  she  would  like  to 
read  it  to  the  doctor  and  Miss  Ann,  and  Mrs. 
Westerley  saw  that  letter  no  more. 

Mrs.  Morton  drove  out  to  her  home  on  the  mem- 
orable night  of  the  9th  of  April  under  skies  ablaze 
with  rockets,  amidst  the  craze  of  joy,  the  clangor 
of  bells,  and  the  shriek  of  engines,  with  which  a 
happy  city  sought  to  find  some  adequate  expression 
of  its  sense  of  relief. 

"  What  a  welcome  !  "  she  cried,  as  with  a  throb- 
bing heart  she  ran  up  the  steps  of  her  own  house, 
j.-  which  was  full  of  cheerful  light.  Then  she  saw  on 
the  piazza  a  strong,  bronzed  young  officer,  with  one 
arm  in  a  sling.  She  paused  a  moment. 

"  Why,  mother,  it  is  Arty ! "  cried  Edward. 

"  Arty  !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  amazement.  "Ah, 
this  is  too  much ! "  and  she  had  him  in  her  arms  in 
a  moment. 

"  Take  care,  mother,"  he  said,  "  my  arm "  — 
And  then  she  held  him  off,  and  looked  at  him  with 
eager  satisfaction,  while  the  doorway  filled  up  with 
Alice  Westerley,  the  doctor,  Hester,  and  Mr.  Wil- 
mington ;  and  there  were  warm  greetings,  which 
soothed  Mrs.  Morton's  troubled  heart.  Then  very 
soon,  as  it  grew  late,  some  of  her  guests  went  away ; 
and  the  young  men  having  slipped  off  to  the  li- 
brary for  a  smoke  and  war  talk,  Mrs.  Morton  was 
left  alone  with  Alice. 


272  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  come  back,"  said  Mrs. 
Westerley,  stirring  the  hickory  fire,  which  a  cool 
April  night  made  desirable,  —  "I  am  glad  you 
have  come  back ;  and  it  is  none  too  soon.  After 
all,  where  is  one  as  comfortable  as  at  home?  For 
every  reason  you  must  be  glad  to  be  here.  I  shall 
feel  greatly  relieved." 

"  Why,  my  dear,  are  you  still  annoyed  about 
Arty  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Morton.  "  I  supposed  his  long 
absence  and  a  year's  growth  might  have  made 
them  forget.  It  seemed  to  me  a  mere  doll  love 
affair." 

"  Absence  has  made  it  worse,  I  fancy,"  replied 
Alice.  "I  don't  know  how  far  it  has  gone  with 
him,  but  his  being  in  the  war  and  in  constant  peril 
has,  I  suppose,  helped  to  keep  him  in  Hester's 
mind.  She  is  seventeen,  and  of  course  has  the  ro- 
mance of  her  age;  and  if  you  look  at  Arty, — I 
suppose  you  did  look  at  Arty,"  she  added,  smiling, 
—  "  there  is  excuse  enough  in  his  face  for  any  girl's 
folly." 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  replied  Mrs.  Morton.  "  But  I 
shall  settle  all  that,"  she  went  on,  remembering 
with  what  ease  her  decisions  had  been  wont  to  be 
carried  out.  "  I  shall  speak  to  Arty  at  once." 

"  I  think  I  would  n't,"  returned  Alice.  She  felt 
just  now  a  peculiar  tenderness  for  people  in  his 
position.  "  You  left  him  simply  Arty,  Helen.  He 
is  now  Captain  Arthur  Morton,  3d  Regiment  Penn- 
sylvania Volunteers,  promoted  for  gallantry  at  Wei- 
don  Cross  Roads." 


IN  WAR  TIME.  273 

"  But  he  is  still  my  son,  and  I  never  knew  him 
to  disobey  me." 

"  Then,  my  dear,  you  may  prepare  yourself  for 
an  enlargement  of  your  maternal  experience !  You 
are  thinking  only  of  him.  Look  at  the  other  argu- 
ment against  you !  " 

"What  other  argument?" 

"  Miss  Hester  Gray,"  said  Alice. 

"  Yes,  she  seems  immensely  changed.  Much  im- 
proved, I  may  say.  Quite  a  nice  girl." 

"  Why,  Helen  Morton,  the  girl  is  a  beauty  I " 

"  Well,  yes,  perhaps  so.  But  Arty  is  too  young. 
In  fact  they  are  mere  children.  Even  if  for  other 
reasons  it  were  suitable,  their  age  would  make  me 
object ;  and  simply,  I  will  not  have  it,  Alice.  She 
has  n't  a  cent  in  the  world ;  and  though  that  might 
not  matter  if  it  were  poor  Ned,  who  is  out  of  the 
question,  Arty  is  absolutely  dependent  on  Colonel 
Morton." 

"But  after  all,  their  age  is  a  little  difficulty 
which  with  the  friendly  help  of  time  they  will  over- 
come. Also  it  is  quite  possible  that  I  may  have 
been  over-anxious.  Arthur  may  not  care  for  her. 
You  may  be  making  a  nice  little  trouble  for  your- 
self. Wait,  my  dear,  —  wait  a  little." 

"  But  I  never  did  like  to  wait.  Why,  then,  Al- 
ice, did  you  say  he  was  in  love  with  her  ?  " 

"  But  I  never  did  say  so." 

"  Well,  if  it 's  only  the  girl,  I  can  afford  to  bide 
my  time-" 

"  But  remember,  Helen,  I  did  not  say  how  far 


274  IN   WAR   TIME. 

this  had  gone,  or  who  was  to  blame,  if  any  one  is  ; 
I  only  said  that  there  was  danger." 

"  Now,  really,  my  dear,  don't  you  think  that  you 
are  a  little  exasperating  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Morton. 

"  No  ;  I  don't  want  to  be.  I  shall  feel  easy  now 
that  you  are  here;  that  is  all.  And  how  is  the 
colonel  ?  " 

Even  Mrs.  Morton's  well-trained  features  showed 
some  trace  of  disturbance  as  she  replied,  — 

"  I  have  no  doubt,  Alice,  that  you  have  guessed 
more  than  I  have  cared  to  write  you.  John  will 
stay  in  Europe  until  he  is  tired  of  it.  He  says  that 
he  has  nothing  to  do  here,  and  that  it  bores  him. 
When  men  are  bored  women  must  continue  to  bear 
the  consequences.  Men  are  bored  and  women  must 
weep.  As  long  as  he  does  not  want  to  come  home 
he  will  stay  abroad.  Unluckily,  there  is  his  wound, 
^  which  gives  him  a  constant  excuse.  If  it  were  well 
and  he  fit  for  service,  nothing  on  earth  would  keep 
him  from  going  back  into  the  army  ;  but  he  is  not 
fit,  and  the  claim  of  his  boys,  or  my  wish  to  return, 
seems  not  to  have  the  slightest  value." 

"  You  were  very  brave  to  make  the  voyage  with- 
out him,"  said  Alice. 

«*  Was  I  ?  That  was  a  trifle.  It  had  to  come. 
When  I  told  him  that  I  must  go  home  and  see  my 
boys,  he  said  that  was  quite  natural,  and  in  fact 
was  as  sweet  and  helpful  about  all  my  arrange- 
ments as  he  could  be.  Really,  he  wondered  I  had 
not  thought  of  it  before." 

"  Where  did  you  leave  him,  Helen? " 


IN  WAR  TIME.  275 

"At  Dijon.  He  came  that  far  with  me.  Do 
you  know,  Alice,  he  said  such  an  odd  thing  to  me 
when  we  parted.  I  had  said,  '  You  will  come  home 
soon,  John  ?  '  To  this  he  answered,  '  I  dare  say, 
soon  enough.  You  won't  want  me  when  you  have 
those  boys ; '  and  then  he  said  he  had  been  very  ir- 
ritable, and  at  times  outrageous,  which,  dear  Alice, 
we  must  admit  to  have  been  the  case.  Of  course,  I 
answered,  '  Oh,  no,'  and  that  I  did  n't  mind  it,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing  we  women  always  have  on 
hand  to  say ;  and  then  what  did  he  add  but  this : 
that  it  was  largely  my  fault,  and  that  if  I  had  ex- 
acted my  own  rights  more  sharply  we  would  both 
of  us  have  been  happier." 

"  How  brutal,  Helen !  " 

"  No,  John  Morton  is  never  that.  It  was  true, 
—  quite  true.  I  see  it  now.  My  life  has  been  a 
mistake." 

"  Well,  I  think  I  understand  it ;  but  just  as  you 
were  leaving,  to  say  such  a  thing !  And  what  did 
you  reply  ?  " 

"  I  told  him  that  it  was  a  very  nice  theory,  and 
true,  but  that  he  never  would  have  stood  it,  and 
that  is  also  true.  I  have  no  idea  that  he  will  ever 
come  home.  He  will  discuss  it,  as  he  does  every- 
thing unpleasant,  but  when  the  time  comes  he  will 
find  some  excuse  to  remain." 

"And  you  will  go  back  to  him,  Helen?"  re- 
turned her  friend. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  suppose  so.  I  do  not  see  how 
I  ever  can  unless  I  take  Ned,  and  for  him  to  be 


276  IN  WAR  TIME. 

with  his  father  is  one  long  misery.  But  there  are 
worse  things  in  life,  I  suppose." 

"  I  am  very,  very  sorry.  But  it  is  late,  and  I 
must  go  to  bed,  and  I  have  n't  asked  you  a  tithe  of 
the  questions  I  had  ready.  Promise  me  that  you 
will  do  nothing  hasty  about  Arty." 

"  I  will  do  nothing  in  haste.  Here  is  your  can- 
dlestick ;  but  I  have  brought  you  a  charming  one 
from  Holland,  so  odd,  with  an  angel  for  a  holder 
and  a  devil  for  an  extinguisher.  I  am  told  that 
it  is  very  old  Dutch  silver.  John  found  it  in 
Ley  den." 

"  What  a  quaintly  unpleasant  notion ! "  mur- 
mured Alice  to  herself,  as  she  went  up  the  staircase 
to  bed.  "  I  wonder  if  John  Morton  knew  that  she 
meant  to  give  it  to  me.  It  would  be  rather  like 
him." 


XVII. 

THE  Morton  household  soon  settled  down  to  its 
new  and  on  the  whole  more  happy  life.  Edward's 
change  from  unrestf ul  discomfort  to  the  peace  of 
soul  which  a  growing  love  of  books  and  of  the 
pursuits  of  the  naturalist  brought  him  struck  his 
mother  with  astonishment,  and  filled  her  with  a 
hopeful  pleasure  which  what  Arthur  called  "  our 
Ned's  melancholy  sweetness "  could  not  destroy. 
In  fact,  Edward  was  suffering  from  the  effects  of  a 
great  moral  shock  on  a  system  incompetent  to  bear 
the  blow ;  and  with  it,  unfortunately,  had  come  to 
the  tender-hearted  young  man  some  self-reproach. 
"  Why,"  he  asked  himself,  "  should  I,  a  wretched 
cripple,  have  dared  even  to  dream  of  fastening 
this  strong,  wholesome  life  to  my  morbid  wretched- 
ness ?  "  How  wrong  it  would  be  even  if  it  were 
possible !  And  now  it  was  not  possible ;  but  the 
worst  of  the  bitter  of  it  had  been  tasted,  and  use 
had  dulled  the  palate  of  despair.  For  a  nature 
like  Edward  Morton's  there  was  nothing  left  ex- 
cept to  smooth  the  way  for  Arty.  The  love  which 
had  been  cherished  because  it  had  seemed  only  a 
tender  friendship  was  now  clearly  defined  to  him, 
its  real  nature  made  but  too  plain ;  for  moral 
analysis,  like  chemical  analysis,  sometimes  destroys 
what  it  explains. 


278  IN  WAR  TIME. 

The  widow,  delighted  to  be  relieved  in  many 
ways  by  Mrs.  Morton's  return,  left  her  very  will- 
ingly to  wind  up  the  affairs  of  the  Sanitary  Com- 
mission office,  and  to  keep  Mrs.  Grace  and  her 
kind  in  order.  She  felt  also  that  it  was  no  longer 
so  clearly  her  business  to  watch  certain  young 
folks,  and  as  sometimes  happened  to  this  woman 
she  lapsed  for  a  season  into  a  fit  of  absolute  idle- 
ness, checkered  with  many  visits  from  Wendell ; 
for  in  fact  Mrs.  Westerley  was  fast  making  up  her 
mind,  and,  tired  of  defense,  was  becoming  indiffer- 
ent as  to  what  her  friends  or  neighbors  might  say. 

The  happy  leisure  of  home  life  suited  Captain 
Arthur  Morton  well.  He  was  young,  had  won  his 
spurs  honestly,  and  found  it  pleasant  to  dine  out 
and  be  made  much  of. 

With  Ann  Wendell  the  young  captain  was  a 
welcome  guest,  and  this  also  suited  him.  There 
was  about  him  a  certain  grimness  of  purpose  which 
Ann  liked,  but  that  this  was  accompanied  by  a 
never-ending  good-humored  amusement  at  and  with 
everything  in  life  seemed  to  her  at  times  unnatural, 
and,  if  she  had  been  able  to  think  it  out  clearly, 
contradictory.  It  was  of  course  not  in  the  nature 
of  things  that  any  woman  should  long  have  doubted 
as  to  what  brought  him  to  the  Wendells'  so  often. 
But  Ann  was  slow  in  seeing  the  by-play  of  life,  and 
Arthur  had  a  hundred  excuses. 

On  the  morning  of  April  16th,  Arthur  walked 
slowly  down  the  main  street  of  Germantown.  He 
was  thinking  deeply,  as  were  millions  of  men  and 


IN  WAR  TIME.  279 

women  North  and  South,  of  the  dark  news  of  Lin- 
coln's assassination.  As  he  went  along,  people  were 
already  closing  their  window  shutters  and  hanging 
black  draperies  on  the  shops,  and  on  all  faces  were 
awe  and  a  terror  as  of  something  yet  to  come. 

But  now  Hester  came  walking  up  Church  Lane, 
whither  she  had  been  as  the  messenger  of  some  of 
Ann's  modest  charities,  and  presently  saw  him; 
and  as  she  was  becoming  consciously  shy  in  these 
days,  she  would  have  run  away  had  she  been  able. 
All  she  could  do,  however,  was  to  delay  her  steps, 
and  think  with  amusement  of  how  she  would  walk 
down  the  main  street  behind  him.  But  suddenly 
Captain  Morton's  eyes  were  on  her,  and  throwing 
away  his  cigar  he  joined  her. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Hester,  what  awful  news  I  " 
"  How  can  men  be  so  wicked ! "  she  returned. 
"  And  now  Dr.  Wendell  says  that  of  all  the  things 
that  could  happen  this  is  the  worst  for  us,  —  for 
the  South." 

"  Yes,  nothing  could  be  worse  for  the  South." 
"  And  will  it  make  more  war,  more  blood  ?  " 
"  I  think  not,  but  who  can  say !     Let  us  not  talk 
about  it  now.     I  have  seen  so  many  men  killed  — 
I  have  seen  so  many  killed  while  I  was  talking  to 
them,  killed  while  they  were  laughing,  struck  out 
of  life  like  numerals  rubbed  off  a  slate  —  that  I  do 
suppose  I  don't  feel  this  as  I  ought  to." 
"Why,  Mr.  Morton!" 

"Yes,  that  seems  strange  to  you,,  doesn't  it? 
Still  I  believe  it  will  be  a  long  while  before  I 


280  IN  WAR  TIME. 

get  to  thinking  life,  just  mere  life,  so  very  valua- 
ble." 

They  walked  on  a  little  in  silence.  Then  he 
added,  musingly,  "  I  think  I  have  a  soldier's  feel- 
ing about  it  all,  and  I  should  n't  wonder  if  he  had 
that,  also." 

"  You  said  a  little  while  ago,  Don't  let  us  talk  of 
it;  and  I  would  far  rather  not.  But — but,"  she 
added,  "  you  won't  ever  say  it  was  the  South  ?  " 

Arthur  colored.  He  had  declared  as  much  at 
breakfast.  "  Whatever  I  may  feel  or  think,  I  shall 
never  say  what  will  hurt  you.  Much  I  care  for  the 
rest  of  the  South !  " 

Hester  felt  that  the  reply  was  rather  more  ample 
than  she  had  asked. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  returned,  and  there  was  a  mo- 
ment of  silence,  when  presently  they  came  to  the 
doctor's  door.  Miss  Ann,  being  now  assured  of 
the  truth  of  the  news,  stood  at  a  window,  the  shut- 
ters of  which  she  was  closing  as  for  one  dead  in  the 
house,  and  listened  gravely  to  the  sound  of  cannon 
from  one  of  the  camps  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  where 
men  used  the  voice  of  war  to  tell  the  story  of  despair. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Ann,  opening  the  door.  "  Have 
you  heard  the  last  news  ?  Johnston  has  surrendered  ; 
and  to  think  of  this  death  between  these  two  joys ! 
Was  it  really  at  a  theatre,  Arthur? " 

"Yes." 

"  I  wish  it  had  n't  been  there,"  she  rejoined  sadly. 
"And  is  it  true  that  the  man  tripped  on  the  flag?" 

"Yes;    that   is  true,  I  believe.     But  let  Miss 


IN   WAR   TIME.  281 

Hester  in,  Miss  Ann  ;  "  and  when  she  had  passed, 
he  said,  "  I  think  it  has  troubled  her  as  a  Southern 
woman.  She  feels  it  dreadfully." 

"  And  well  she  may ! "  exclaimed  Ann,  bitterly 
for  her,  and  went  away  upstairs,  saying  to  Hester, 
who  had  gone  into  the  parlor,  "  Come  up  as  soon  as 
Mr.  Morton  goes.  I  have  got  some  work  for  you." 

"  Shall  I  come  now,  Miss  Ann  ?  " 

"  No,  I  am  in  no  hurry." 

"  Of  course  you  cannot  go,"  said  Captain  Mor- 
ton. "  Am  I  not  a  bronzed  veteran,  and  shall  I  not 
be  entertained  on  my  return  from  the  wars  ?  " 

"  Duty  first,"  cried  Hester,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Gray,  I  hope  you  don't  forget  the 
rest  of  that  wise  saying ;  and  as  Miss  Ann  has  let 
you  off  the  duty,  I  may  presume  there  is  nothing 
else  but  to  realize  the  other  end  of  the  proverb." 

"  I  think  you  are  very  saucy,"  she  returned  ;  "  in 
fact  you  are  quite  too  fond  of  making  inferences." 

"  Is  that  what  keeps  you  away  from  our  house, 
Hester?" 

"  No,  it  is  not  that  —  but "  — 

"  But  what  ?  Ned  is  n't  well,  and  he  must  miss 
you  awfully.  He  does  nothing  but  growl  about 
your  staying  away.  Why  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  will  get  on  very  well  without  me. 
Come  in  here;  I  want  to  show  you  the  doctor's 
new  rhizopod.  He  is  so  proud  of  it." 

"  Now,"  said  the  bronzed  veteran  calmly,  "  that 
was  a  very  feeble  bit  of  diplomacy !  Why  do  you 
not  come  to  the  Laurels  as  you  used  to  ?  " 


282  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  Don't  you  think,"  she  replied,  "  that  when  one 
shows  a  disinclination  to  answer  it  were  just  as  well 
to  infer  that  you  are  answered  ?  " 

He  looked  up  at  her,  surprised  at  the  ingenuity 
and  truth  of  the  defense,  and  charmed  with  the 
womanly  dignity  which  of  a  sudden  seemed  to  en- 
velop her. 

How  old  she  gets !  he  thought ;  but  then  he  saw 
she  was  flushing  a  little.  There  had  come  to  her  a 
sudden  apprehension  that  what  she  had  said  might 
be  misunderstood,  so  she  added  quickly,  a  little 
angry  at  being  forced  to  explain  herself,  — 

"  Miss  Ann  thinks  that  your  mother  will  ask  me 
when  she  wants  me,  and  as  you  have  many  guests 
I  have  kept  away.  Is  that  very  mysterious  ?  " 

He  had  an  instinctive  sense  that  this  was  not 
quite  all ;  but  he  said,  "  That  is  Miss  Ann  all  over ; 
but  I  have  vexed  you."  Hester  shook  her  head. 
A  fib  by  gesture  is  probably  to  be  regarded  as  the 
mildest  form  of  untruth. 

"  But  I  did  vex  you ;  and  one  word  more.  I 
was  not  quite  correct  in  what  I  said  about  Lincoln 
and  the  South.  I  had  said  something  about  the 
South  at  breakfast  that  would  have  made  you  fu- 
rious. I  want  to  say  now  that  I  shall  never  so 
speak  again.  I  mean  —  Hester  Gray  —  I  mean 
because  of  you !  " 

"  I  think  you  should  obey  your  own  conscience," 
she  said,  proudly  standing  by  the  mantel,  and  fac- 
ing him.  "  No  friendship  ought  to  control  that." 

"  I  have  two  consciences  now,"  he  replied,  look- 
ing up  and  smiling  kindly. 


IN  WAR  TIME.  283 

"Two?"  she  returned,  a  little  eased  at  the  turn 
of  the  talk,  —  "  two  ?  How  queer  !  " 

"  And  one  is  Hester  Gray." 

"  Nonsense !  "  she  cried,  laughing  and  embar- 
rassed. "  I  cannot  accept  the  charge.  I  have  quite 
enough  trouble  as  it  is.  Besides,  you  would  be  so 
over-supplied  with  conscientiousness,  you  couldn't 
turn  around  without  crying;  and  as  for  me,  I 
should  have  to  share  your  conscience,  also,  and  if  I 
am  to  have  two  I  shall  try  Miss  Ann's.  I  think  it 
is  more  of  a  bronzed  veteran  than  yours." 

"  But  after  all,  I  never  meant  to  ask  you  to 
share  my  conscience.  I  only  wanted  to  keep  the 
respect  of  yours." 

"  As  if  you  ever  had  it !  "  she  cried,  merrily, 
well  pleased  to  be  off  dangerous  ground  again. 

"  But  I  shall  hope  to  have  it,  and  to  keep  it, 
too." 

Then  Miss  Ann  called,  as  was  her  way,  from  the 
staircase :  "  Are  you  soon  coming,  Hester  ?  "  Miss 
Ann  was,  as  we  know,  calmly  unconventional. 

"  I  must  go,"  said  Hester. 

"  Just  a  moment,  Hester,"  begged  Arthur.  Then, 
as  she  stood,  he  took  her  hand. 

"  Don't  keep  me,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Really,  I 
must  go." 

"  Not  yet,"  and  looking  her  straight  in  the  eyes 
he  went  on :  "I  shall  want  your  respect,  Hester, 
because  I  want  your  love  —  and  —  and  —  shall  I 
have  it,  Hester  ?  "  and  a  great  eagerness  of  purpose 
came  over  his  strong  face.  He  felt  her  tremble  and 


284  IN  WAR  TIME. 

saw  her  eyelids  fall  to  hide  the  tender  terror  of  the 
moment,  but  yet  she  did  not  move.  Many  times 
in  these  few  days  she  had  gotten  away  from  this, 
and  now  it  was  come.  "  Speak,  Hester,"  he  im- 
plored, hoarsely.  There  was  some  gentle  instinct 
in  him  that  made  him  feel  a  deep  and  unselfish  pity 
for  the  orphan  girl.  "  But  if,  dear,"  he  added,  "  it 
cannot  be,  don't  be  afraid  to  tell  me.  I  shall  try 
hard  to  bear  it." 

And  then  Ann  was  heard  again :  "  If  Arthur 
Morton  stays  any  longer,  Hester,  he  must  help  pare 
the  apples  for  the  pies." 

Hester  looked  up,  smiling,  through  fast-filling 
eyes.  Then  the  captain  also  smiled.  Then  they 
both  laughed,  while,  glad  of  this  diversion,  she 
made  a  swift  and  shameful  flight  for  the  door ;  but 
this  flank  movement  was  unsuccessful,  and  he 
caught  her  by  the  wrist  with  his  hurt  hand. 

"  Don't !  "  she  cried.     "  I  must  go." 

"  But  you  hurt  my  arm." 

"  I  don't  care  —  I  don't  care  at  all !  Mr.  Mor- 
ton, let  me  go !  " 

"  May  I  peel  those  apples  with  you,  Hester  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so." 

"  And  may  I  always  peel  apples  with  you,  Hea 
ter?" 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured,  faintly. 

"  Are  you  never  coming  ? "  asked  Ann,  quite 
close  to  the  door. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  returned  Hester,  very  red,  and  open- 
ing it  abruptly. 


TN  WAR  TIME.  285 

"  Oh,  Miss  Ann,  and  I  am  going  to  help  her  !  " 
said  Arthur. 

Then  and  there  it  was  all  only  too  suddenly 
made  clear  to  Ann,  and  leaving  them  she  went  up- 
stairs into  her  room,  and  sitting  down  groaned 
aloud,  "What  am  I  to  do?  How  blind  I  have 
been !  And  does  she  dream  that  her  father  was 
V killed  by  his  father?" 

It  had  been  a  horrible  story  to  Ann  as  first  she 
heard  it,  and  her  last  interview  with  Captain  Gray, 
when  he  was  dying,  had  so  set  it  in  her  mind  that 
it  would  have  been  utterly  impossible  for  her  to 
disbelieve  it.  In  fact,  it  was,  as  she  felt,  a  dying 
man's  statement.  The  law  accepted  such  state- 
ments, and  how  could  she  do  other  than  accept 
them  also?  All  through  these  years  it  had  influ- 
enced her  feelings,  at  least,  and  had  made  her  look 
with  constant  discomfort  on  the  kindness  shown  to 
Hester  by  the  Mortons.  When  she  knew  that 
Colonel  Morton  was  responsible  for  a  part  of  this 
kindness,  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  he  were  thus  seek- 
ing to  atone  to  the  child  he  had  made  fatherless. 
Her  brother  had  told  her  that  the  whole  matter  was 
absurd,  and  that,  if  true,  it  was  only  what  must 
happen  in  war.  He  had  better  not  have  said  "  if 
true."  That  still  left  in  Ann's  mind  a  dark  and 
unpleasant  doubt ;  and  now  at  last  the  time  had 
come  when,  as  a  woman  fearing  God,  she  must 
face  the  matter  with  some  practical  decision.  Ann 
tried  hard  to  think  it  all  out  to  a  satisfactory  con- 
clusion. She  felt  that  this  time,  at  least,  she  could 
not  quite  trust  Ezra.  How  could  he  decide  any- 


286  IN   WAR   TIME. 

thing  fairly  where  the  Mortons  were  concerned, 
and  who  else  was  there,  and  who  could  tell  these 
glad  young  people,  and  why  was  this  misery  of 
duty  put  upon  her?  "Had  I  been  less  blind,  I 
might  have  seen  it  in  time,"  she  cried.  Then  she 
began  to  realize  how  far  Hester  had  grown  into  her 
affections,  and  to  think  with  an  increasing  pain  of 
Arthur,  for  whom  her  heart  was  strangely  open. 
There  was  some  New  England  vigor  in  him,  she 
said,  liking  to  explain  her  admiration  on  impersonal 
grounds.  If  Dr.  Lagrange  had  been  within  reach, 
she  would  have  wished  to  talk  with  him  about  it 
all.  His  supreme  exactness  gave  Ann  a  strong 
belief  in  his  conscientiousness,  and  probably  she 
would  have  been  set  at  rest  by  his  dictum.  But 
"  Dr.  Lagrange  was  far  away  in  the  Mississippi 
;  Valley,  and  was  just  then  lamenting  over  divers  re- 
turns  of  hospital  stores  conveniently  "  expended  in 
service,"  or  captured,  and  was  miserably  unhappy 
over  wars  which  were  carried  on  in  this  unmethod- 
ical fashion. 

Nevertheless  Ann  took  some  comfort  after  hav- 
ing written  to  him.  She  felt  that  she  must  do 
something,  and  now,  having  done  something,  could 
rest  tranquil  for  a  few  days;  and  if  then  nothing 
came  to  her  in  the  way  of  hopeful  counsel,  there  at 
least  was  Alice  Westerley. 

But  just  yet  she  would  say  nothing  to  Ezra.  If 
Arthur  mentioned  his  love  affair  to  him,  as  was 
likely  enough,  she  might  have  to  speak  as  to  what 
was  on  her  mind.  She  did  not  like  the  conceal- 
ment, but  events  had  been  too  strong  for  her. 


XVIII. 

THE  spring  buds  filled  up,  despite  the  wars  and 
griefs  of  men,  and  where  the  latest  snow  was  melt- 
ing the  trailing  arbutus  made  the  Wissahickon  hills 
delicious  with  its  perfect  fragrance.  It  was  such 
a  day  as  always  brought  Mr.  Wilmington  to  the 
country  for  a  little  sunning.  He  was  yet  lingering 
in,  his  town  house,  loath  to  leave  his  club  and  the 
evening  whist-table;  but  the  evening  whist  had 
been  rather  broken  up  of  late,  owing  to  great 
events  outside,  and  as  a  consequence  the  little,  pre- 
cise, ruddy  face  was  looking  unpleased,  its  owner's 
enjoyment  of  life  being  temperately  made  up  of  a 
regular  succession  of  many  small  things.  He  got 
out  of  his  train  at  Fisher's  Lane,  and  sauntered 
along  until  he  came  to  the  old  graveyard  at  the 
corner  of  the  main  street.  Here  he  paused  in  the 
lane,  and  resting  his  arms  on  the  crumbling  stone 
wall  looked  over  at  the  neglected  stones,  slanted 
this  way  and  that,  and  tried  to  decipher  some  of 
the  nearer  inscriptions.  He  was  wondering  what 
some  other  old  fellow  would  say,  a  century  hence, 
when  he  came  to  read  the  words  in  which  his  de- 
mise would  be  recorded  in  Christ  Church  burial- 
ground.  "  At  least,"  reflected  the  comfortable  old 
sinner,  "  I  sha'n't  know."  And  then  he  chuckled 


288  72V   WAR   TIME. 

at  the  idea  that  it  would  not  be  well  to  have  Mrs. 
Westerley  write  that  inscription. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Wilmington,"  said  Wen- 
dell, approaching  him.  "  What  mean  these  medi- 
tations among  the  tombs  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  how 
much  more  amusing  graveyards  would  be  if  com- 
ments were  added  to  the  inscriptions  by  others  than 
one's  heirs." 

"  Good  heavens !  "  said  the  doctor,  shuddering. 
"  I  should  decree  myself  a  nameless,  dateless  grave, 
like  the  Quakers."  The  idea  struck  him  as  un- 
pleasant. If  he  died  that  day,  what  might  not  be 
said  of  him  ?  "  Are  you  going  up  Main  Street  ?  " 

"  I  am  wandering,"  answered  Wilmington.  "  I 
shall  probably  wind  up  at  Mrs.  Westerley's." 

Wendell  was  glad  of  company.  He  had  learned 
ktely  the  worst  news  of  his  new  investment,  and 
he  had  bought  some  gold,  thinking  thus  to  help 
himself,  and  then,  to  the  amazement  of  all,  when 
Lee  surrendered  gold  fell.  That  day  had  come  a 
letter  from  Henry  Gray,  dated  in  London  a  month 
back,  in  which  he  desired  Dr.  Wendell  to  hold 
ready  for  his  call  nine  thousand  dollars,  as  he  saw 
a  way  of  making  for  his  cousin  Hester  a  better  in- 
vestment of  it  than  could  possibly  be  made  in  the 
North.  Like  most  Confederates  abroad,  he  was  ut- 
terly unable  to  see  how  fast  the  power  of  the  South- 
ern States  was  crumbling,  and  still  wrote  with  a 
confidence  in  their  integrity  which  to  Wendell 
seemed  little  less  than  ludicrous.  "  Would  the 


IN  WAR  TIME.  289 

doctor  and  his  sister  be  so  good  as  to  keep  the  re- 
maining thousand  as  a  slight  proof  of  Mr.  Gray's 
gratitude,  which  he  hoped  to  show  later  in  some 
still  more  substantial  way  ?  " 

Wendell  did  not  like  this  letter,  for  many  and 
obvious  reasons ;  he  walked  on,  talking,  and  at 
times  thinking  of  it  anew. 

"  Disagreeable  business,  all  this ! "  said  Wil- 
mington, vaguely,  —  "death  of  Lincoln,  and  all 
that.  There  is  a  passage  in  the  Spectator  which 
applies  to  it,  —  something  about  rebels ;  but  it 
might  be  in  Milton." 

"  I  don't  recall  it,"  replied  Wendell. 

"  Nor  I.  My  memory  is  n't  at  all  what  it  was. 
Bless  me,  how  sharp  the  air  is !  " 

"Yes,  it  is  rather  biting  for  the  season.  And 
how  is  the  gout,  Mr.  Wilmington  ?  " 

"  Well  enough,  if  I  don't  drink  madeira.  But 
you  see,  doctor,  if  you  don't  drink  madeira,  why, 
life  really  is  n't  worth  much  in  the  latter  part  of 
the  day,  you  know." 

"  I  would  n't  take  a  great  deal,  or  habitually," 
said  Wendell. 

"  No,  I  dare  say  you  would  n't.  But  upon  my 
word,  is  n't  that  old  Grace's  barn  ?  He  has  taken 
off  his  weather-cock ;  and  how  on  earth  does  he 
suppose  I  can  dress  myself  without  a  weather-cock 
in  sight  ?  It 's  no  use  on  one's  own  house." 

The  doctor,  much  amused,  condoled  with  his 
friend,  and  suggested  mutual  weather-cocks,  which 
seemed  a  satisfactory  solution,  and  Mr.  Wilming- 


290  IN  WAR  TIME. 

ton  went  on  for  some  time  in  silence,  apparently 
comforted. 

This  gave  Wendell  a  little  time  for  reflection, 
which  resulted  in  this  wise :  — 

"  I  have  had  a  letter  from  Hester's  cousin,  and 
perhaps  you  may  be  willing  to  advise  me  in  regard 
to  it,  as  you  did  about  the  first  letter." 

"I  shall  have  great  pleasure,"  returned  Wil- 
mington. He  liked  to  be  asked  for  advice,  and  in 
matters  of  business,  or  purely  worldly  affairs,  there 
were  few  more  clear-headed  counselors.  He  put  on 
his  glasses,  and  pausing  tranquilly  in  the  street  read 
the  letter.  Then  he  read  it  again. 

"Queer  hand  he  writes.  What's  that  word? 
Oh,  it 's  'investment,'  is  it?" 

"Indeed,"  said  WendeU,  "I  agree  with  you 
fully  about  the  writing.  I  wonder  people  are  not 
ashamed  to  write  so  badly.  It  is  n't  considered  an 
accomplishment  to  stammer  so  as  to  be  incompre- 
hensible. But  how  does  the  letter  strike  you,  sir  ?  " 

The  old  gentleman  raised  his  eyelids,  which  were 
in  general  very  nearly  shut,  and  this  unclosure  of 
two  large  gray  eyes  had  the  effect  of  the  sudden 
lighting  up  of  a  disused  house. 

"I  am  afraid  he  has  an  idea  of  putting  the 
money  in  Confederate  bonds.  But  of  course  that 
is  his  business,  and  not  ours.  It  is  his  own  money." 

Wendell  was  not  greatly  pleased  with  the  infer- 
ence to  be  drawn  from  the  advice,  and  said,  "  In  a 
measure  it  is  his  own ;  but  if  he  throws  it  away, 
and  the  rest  of  his  property,  too,  where  will  Hester 


IN  WAR   TIME.  291 

be  ?  Does  n't  it  strike  you  that  she  should  be  con- 
sidered a  little  ?  " 

"  You  have  no  right  to  think  that  he  is  n't  con- 
sidering her,  and  of  course  my  guess  is  just  only  a 
distrustful  old  fellow's  guess.  Perhaps  he  has 
some  really  good  investment ;  and  after  all,  when 
you  come  to  act,  you  cannot  afford  to  assume  any 
rights." 

"  And  you  would  advise  me  "  —  continued  Wen- 
dell, with  hesitation. 

"Oh,  you  can't  need  advice!  When  he  draws 
you  will  send  him  his  money." 

"  But  it  will  be  rather  hard  on  Hester." 

"  That  may  be,  or  it  may  not.  Perhaps  he  won't 
draw  at  all,  and  I  rather  think  that  he  will  hesitate 
now  about  Confederate  paper.  It  must  be  a  stupid 
rat  that  does  n't  know  that  ship  is  sinking." 

"  I  did  n't  think  of  it  in  that  light.  Things  have 
certainly  changed  a  good  deal  since  he  wrote.  But 
don't  you  think  if  I  found  that  he  had  drawn  soon 
after  writing  me,  it  would  be  a  kindness  to  be  in  no 
haste  to  act  ?  A  little  time  might  "  — 

"  I  said  nothing  like  that,  Dr.  Wendell,"  broke 
in  the  old  gentleman,  with  unpleasant  accuracy 
of  articulation,  and  opening  his  eyes  again  very 
wide.  A  dim  shade  of  suspicion  had  entered  his 
mind. 

"  I  was  rather  making  an  inference  than  repeat- 
ing anything  you  said,"  replied  Wendell,  quickly. 
"  I  need  hardly  say  that  he  will  instantly  find  his 
draft  honored.  As  a  mere  matter  of  business  I 


292  IN  WAR  TIME. 

should  have  no  choice,  but  one  can't  help  speculat- 
ing as  to  the  desirable." 

"  Speculation  with  or  about  other  folks'  money 
is  —  well,  is  undesirable  ;  and,  by  the  way,  Hester 
must  have  a  nice  little  sum  over  and  above  her  ten 
thousand,  or  his  ten  thousand.  Those  bonds  have 
gone  up  like  a  kite." 

Wendell  shuddered.  "  Yes,"  he  assented,  "  you 
gave  me  good  advice  as  to  that.  Poor  Hester !  " 

"  Why  poor  ?  "  growled  the  old  man.  "  Is  any 
one  poor  who  has  eyes  like  hers  ?  Only  age  is 
poor ;  and  it  gets  poorer,  sir,  —  it  gets  poorer,  till 
it  ends  in  the  poorhouse  of  the  grave.  But  I  think 
that  young  person  will  be  taken  care  of.  I  suspect 
my  friend  Arty  is  going  to  have  a  say  in  her  fu- 
ture." 

"Indeed?"  said  Wendell,  annoyed.  "I  have 
had  that  idea  myself ;  but  do  you  suppose  Mrs. 
Morton  would  ever  dream  of  allowing  Arthur  "  — 

"  '  Dream,'  '  allow  ! '  "  exclaimed  Wilmington. 
"  You  don't  know  the  men  of  that  breed.  He  will 
marry  the  girl  if  he  wants  to,  doctor,  —  make  your 
mind  easy  on  that  subject,"  and  the  old  gentleman 
chuckled  gently.  "  But  I  must  leave  you.  I  am 
going  into  this  shop.  Good-morning." 

Wendell  said  good-by,  and  walked  away.  He 
felt  unhappy  and  displeased  with  himself,  and  had 
an  odd  sense  of  an  injustice  done  him  in  the  taking 
of  Hester  out  of  his  life  ;  it  would  be  so  much  sun- 
shine gone.  And  then  over  and  over  he  thought, 
till  thought  was  a  wearying  pain,  of  what  he  could 


IN  WAR  TIME.  293 

do.  There  were  now  at  least  three  thousand  dol- 
lars to  replace ;  and  even  if  he  sold  his  sister's 
stock  and  his  own,  at  a  sacrifice  which  would  be 
ruinous,  how  should  he  tell  Ann  ?  —  how  account 
for  the  portion  of  Hester's  bonds  he  had  sold  ? 
Death  would  be  easier  than  to  face  Ann's  pure 
face,  and  say,  "  I  have  stolen.  I  am  a  thief." 
Amidst  the  gathering  horror  of  all  this  anticipated 
torment,  he  went  feebly  through  several  visits,  and 
then  wandered  about,  until  at  last  he  came  to  Mrs. 
Westerley's  gate.  He  felt  none  of  the  fear  of  her 
insight  which  experience  had  taught  him  in  regard 
to  Ann's,  who  had  instinctively  studied  him  through 
the  long  years  of  their  changing  fortunes ;  but  the 
thought  was  ever  present  to  him  that  he  loved  Alice 
Westerley  purely  and  for  herself,  and  must  marry 
her  to  be  clear  of  his  pecuniary  load.  He  wanted 
to  marry  her,  and  yet  not  to  have  to  think  he  had 
or  might  have  a  bad  background  of  urgent  motives. 
He  wished  to  have  all  this  lovely  sweetness  of  long- 
ing free  from  taint  and  pure  as  childhood.  Only 
a  sensitive  man  and  a  poet  in  temperament  could 
have  kept  himself  on  such  a  rack.  He  took  off  his 
hat  as  he  stood  at  her  door,  struck  his  forehead 
with  his  palm,  moved  his  fingers  like  one  in  pain, 
and  at  last  rang,  and  presently  went  in. 

He  wanted  to  be  alone  with  Alice,  but  to  his  an- 
noyance he  found  Arthur,  and  saw  at  once  from 
their  faces  that  some  talk  of  unusual  interest  had 
taken  place.  Alice  rose,  and  greeted  him  warmly. 

"  Ah,  you  are  the  very  man  we  wanted.     I  have 


294  IN  WAR  TIME. 

just  been  saying  to  Arty  that  he  must  tell  you  and 
Miss  Ann  that  Hester  has  promised  to  marry  him. 
And  what  a  wicked  thing,  Dr.  Wendell,"  she  added, 
archly,  "  to  promise  to  marry  a  man ;  and  she  is  so 
young,  too,  to  be  so  wicked  !  " 

Wendell  was  pleased  at  her  little  bit  of  gay  allu- 
siveness,  which  he  felt  flattered  to  know  was  meant 
for  him  alone  to  understand. 

"  It  is  so,  Dr.  Wendell,"  said  the  sun-browned 
captain  ;  "  and  I  feel  as  if  now  I  might  be  going  to 
be  some  kind  of  a  relation  of  yours,  and  that  is  n't 
an  unpleasant  part  of  it,  either." 

Mrs.  Westerley  liked  this  well. 

"Indeed?"  returned  Wendell,  not  quite  so 
warmly  as  such  occasions  demand.  "  I  congratulate 
you,  Arthur.  In  fact,  I  suppose  I  should  have  ex- 
pected it.  But  does  your  mother  know  it  yet  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Arthur,  "  but  Ned  will  settle  that. 
He  means  to  talk  to  her  to-night.  I  wanted  to  do 
it  myself,  and  at  once  :  but  he  said  no,  —  that  he 
wished  to  have  the  pleasure  himself.  Of  course 
there  will  be  a  row,  but  it  won't  last.  And  now 
I  am  off.  I  think  —  oh,  I  ought  to  say  I  know  — 
that  Miss  Gray  has  told  Miss  Ann.  Good-by !  " 

"  Why  did  you  take  it  so  coolly  ?  "  asked  Alice 
of  Dr.  Wendell.  "I  don't  think  Arthur  was 
enough  himself  to  notice  your  manner,  but  I  did. 
You  must  have  had  some  expectation  of  it.  I 
should  have  really  supposed  you  did  not  like  it,  if 
I  had.  not  known  better." 

"  It  seems  like  losing  a  child  to  lose  Hester. 


IN  WAR   TIME.  295 

I  do  not  see  how  life  would  be  possible  without 
her." 

"  Oh !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Westerley,  and  picking 
up  a  book  began  to  cut  its  leaves  with  great  pre- 
cision. 

"  Why  did  you  say  Oh  ?  "  queried  Wendell. 

"  That  should  be  an  easy  riddle,"  she  answered. 

"  Alice,  Alice,"  he  returned,  "  none  of  your  rid- 
dles are  easy !  You  mean,  do  you  not,  that  I  should 
lose  the  child's  life  when  a  dearer  life  becomes  one 
with  mine  ;  that  I  was  comparing  the  two  loves, 
which  are  both  so  sweet  and  so  unlike  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  say  so." 

"  But  you  meant  it,  and  yet  you  must  know  what 
you  are  to  me.  Oh,  no,  you  cannot  know  how  you 
fill  my  life  with  a  sense  of  calm  content !  You  can- 
not know  that  you  alone  rise  to  the  level  of  under- 
standing my  ambitions,  and  believe  that  under  hap- 
pier circumstances  I  may  come  to  be  worthy,  at 
least  in  achievement,  even  of  you.  A  brook  flow- 
ing into  a  dry  land  could  not  more  surely  find  and 
fill  its  depths  of  craving  thirst  than  you  my  secret 
longings  !  Why  do  you  still  keep  me  waiting  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  Cannot  you,  to  whom  I  have 
given  so  much  and  said  so  much,  be  contented,  for 
a  while  at  least  ?  I  know  what  I  am  to  you.  I 
think  I  know  what  I  can  do  to  give  you  freedom 
from  all  that  now  weighs  down  your  life,  and  I 
have  said  —  I  have  said  —  I  loved  you." 

"  But,  Alice  "  — 

"  Oh,"  she  went  on,  "  you  men  are  all  selfish ! 


296  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Do  you  wonder  I  should  pause  and  delay  ?  I  won- 
der women  ever  do  anything  else.  For  you  it  is  no 
great  change  ;  for  us  —  for  me  it  is  total.  I  give 
up  my  ways,  my  plans,  my  right  to  be  alone  or  not, 
to  go,  to  come,  and  I  gain  a  master,"  she  said,  smil- 
ing at  him.  "  Oh,  you  must  not  think  of  me  as 
like  Hester,  like  a  young  girl !  I  must  think,  —  I 
must  think." 

"  And  I  must  wait." 

"  Yes.  But  you  know  how  it  will  end.  You 
must  know,  and  when  you  have  me,  and  I  have 
said  that  one  fatal  word,  perhaps  you  will  not  find 
me  quite  all  that  you  choose  to  dream  in  your  poet 
heart." 

"  I  have  no  fear,"  said  Wendell,  taking  her 
hand.  How  cool  and  soft  it  was !  He  kissed  it, 
once,  twice.  "  Oh,  I  love  you,  little  hand,  and  I 
should  like  well  to  keep  you  a  close  prisoner." 

"  And  do  jailers  kiss  their  prisoners  ?  "  she  said, 
smiling.  "Let  them  go,"  she  added,  for  now  he 
had  both  hands.  "  Let  them  go,  and  I  will  do 
something  very  nice  for  you." 

"  What  will  you  do  ?     Will  you  say  yes  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied,  with  set  lips  and  an  air  of 
the  tenderest  mutiny,  "not  yet!  But  I  will  do 
what  I  have  never  done  —  I  —  I  —  will  once  —  or 
twice  —  only  once  or  twice  —  I  will  call  you  — 
Ezra—  I  think  I  like  it  —  Ezra !  " 

It  was  a  strange  shock  to  Wendell.  He  disliked 
his  homely  name,  and  was  ashamed  that  he  disliked 
it.  At  first,  for  a  moment,  he  really  thought  she 


72V  WAR  TIME.  297 

was  using  it  with  a  humorous  sense  of  its  oddness  ; 
but  he  saw  this  was  not  so,  and  then  was  pleased 
that  she  had  conquered  this  difficulty,  which  he  felt 
must  be,  for  her  as  for  him,  an  enormous  one. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  releasing  her  hands. 
"  Don't  you  think  it  an  odd  name  ?  " 

"  I  never  thought  about  it  at  all,"  she  returned. 
"  But  now  you  must  go.  I  expect  Miss  Clemson 
here,  and  Mrs.  Morton.  It  is  well  that  walls  tell 
no  tales,  sir.  Don't  come  here  to-morrow,  —  don't 
come  for  a  week,  please !  " 

"  And  how  am  I  to  stand  that  ?"  said  he.  "  A 
week  ?  Not  a  whole  week  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that,  —  all  of  that." 

"  And  shall  I  have  my  answer  then  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  think  not.  I  do  wish  you 
would  go ! " 

"  Good-by,  then." 

"  And  you  will  see  me  in  a  week  ?  I  shall  ex- 
pect you." 

"And  at  what  hour?" 

"  Oh,  you  must  take  your  chance  !   Now  do  go ! " 

Mrs.  Grace's  letter  to  Colonel  Fox  bore  fruit  in 
due  season.  It  found  him  at  midday  on  the  march. 
He  read  it,  and  as  he  crumpled  it  into  his  pocket 
ejaculated  one  or  two  brief  words  not  known  to  the 
language  of  Friends.  Then  he  rode  along,  musing, 
sitting  tall  in  the  saddle,  a  fresh-colored  man,  with 
a  straight,  large  nose,  of  a  good  leathery  tint  just 
now,  curly-haired  and  clean-shaven,  —  a  face  apt 


298  IN  WAR  TIME. 

enough  to  be  stern,  but  with  eyes  that  seemed  ready 
with  gentle  apologies  for  his  graver  features  ;  alto- 
gether the  fair  figure  of  a  cavalier.  Until  his  fa- 
ther's time  all  of  his  race,  since  Penn  sold  them 
lands  in  Merion,  had  been  Friends  of  the  straitest 
sect,  unto  whom  Thomas  Hicks  was  an  abomina- 
tion ;  but  of  late,  although  they  still  held  with  the 
meeting  and  used  the  Quaker  language,  they  had 
ceased  to  affect  a  rigid  plainness  of  attire.  After 
a  rather  unruly  boyhood,  George  Fox  had  taken, 
when  quite  young,  the  small  capital  his  father  had 
left  hun,  and  had  gone  to  live  on  some  iron  lands 
he  owned  in  Allegheny  County,  and  there  had  so 
prospered  that  when  the  war  broke  out  it  found 
him  a  rich  and  independent  man.  To  the  annoy- 
ance of  his  family  he  at  once  entered  the  army,  and 
there  brought  to  bear  the  energy,  sagacity,  and 
power  over  men  which  he  had  shown  in  his  busi- 
ness, as  well  as  a  cool  and  ready  courage,  for  which 
in  his  previous  life  there  been  but  small  chance  of 
use. 

Three  weeks  went  by  amidst  the  shock  of  armies 
in  their  final  grapple,  and  at  last  he  had  found 
himself  free  again  for  a  few  days.  There  had  been 
little  time  to  think  calmly,  but  now  he  reflected,  and 
before  long  reached  a  conclusion  altogether  char- 
acteristic of  the  man.  He  obtained  a  week's  leave 
of  absence,  and  came  home.  What  he  there  heard 
casually  made  his  purpose  more  firm,  and  with  his 
usual  decisiveness  he  at  once  wrote  to  Mrs.  Wes- 
terley:  — 


IN  WAR  TIME.  299 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Westerley,  I  want  to  see  you,  and 
to  be  sure  to  find  you  alone  that  I  may  talk  with 
you  a  few  minutes.  You  need  not  fear  that  it  will 
be  about  myself ;  but  there  is  something  not  very 
pleasant  which  I  feel  I  must  say  to  you,  and  which 
I  would  be  glad  —  honestly  glad  —  not  to  have  to 
say." 

Then  he  added  that  her  reply  would  reach  him 
at  the  city  headquarters. 

Mrs.  Westerley  was  made  rather  uneasy  and  in- 
tensely curious  by  this  note,  and  hastened  to  an- 
swer that  she  would  be  at  home  to  him  at  one,  the 
next  day. 

A  few  minutes  before  the  hour  set  for  his  call, 
Mrs.  Westerley  went  into  her  drawing-rooms  and 
began  to  walk  about,  not  at  all  as  the  male  being 
does  when  in  thought  or  annoyed,  but  hither  and 
thither,  from  table  to  table,  with  what  would  have 
,  seemed  to  the  man-minded  immeasurably  small 
*  purposes,  in  the  way  of  moving  a  book,  or  setting 
back  a  chair,  or  turning  a  vase  around.  Then  de- 
ciding that  it  was  cool  for  May  to  be  so  close  at 
hand,  she  ordered  the  fire  to  be  lighted ;  and  as  the 
yellow  flames  of  the  hickory  shot  up,  she  appeared 
at  last  to  be  satisfied,  and  sat  down  for  a  moment, 
only  to  rise  again  in  order  to  move  from  her  fire- 
side table  a  book  of  antique  look  which  Wendell 
had  sent  her  the  day  before,  that  she  might  look  at 
certain  passages  which  he  had  marked.  What 
subtle  woman's  instinct  caused  her  to  lay  the  vol- 
ume away  out  of  sight  on  top  of  the  cottage  piano 


300  7;V   WAR  TIME. 

she  herself  might  have  been  puzzled  to  state.  For 
indeed  the  motives  which  induce  these  petty  actions 
are  often  so  faintly  registered  that  we  may  fail  to 
discover  them  at  all,  and  the  doing  of  a  thing  may 
leave  us  with  nothing  but  a  slight  surprise  at  what 
we  have  done. 

As  almost  automatically  she  obeyed  her  woman's 
instinct,  she  suddenly  seemed  to  perceive  herself 
as  an  uninterested  observer  might  have  done,  and, 
smiling,  colored  faintly  as  she  moved  away ;  when 
catching  sight  of  herself  in  the  mirror  as  she  paused 
before  it  she  adjusted  a  rebel  lock,  turned  her  head 
aside,  and  with  one  critical  glance  sat  down  by  the 
fire,  and  resolving  to  puzzle  herself  no  further  took 
up  a  paper.  She  had  hardly  read  a  paragraph 
when  the  servant  opened  the  door,  and  saying, 
"  Colonel  Fox,  ma'am,"  left  them  alone. 

It  is  given  to  few  women  to  be  unmoved  when  for 
the  first  time  after  saying  No  to  a  man  whom  they 
profoundly  respect  and  admire  they  see  him  again. 
Mrs.  Westerley  rose  and  shook  hands  with  Fox 
kindly  and  even  warmly.  It  was  remote  from  her 
nature  to  hurt  without  being  hurt  herself,  and  she 
somehow  recognized  the  depth  of  the  wound  she 
had  given.  She  felt  it  even  more  now,  as  she 
noted  his  evident  embarrassment,  which  lessened 
as  he  talked,  but  which  she,  of  course,  and  very 
naturally,  attributed  to  his  memory  of  their  last 
meeting. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said.  "  Sit 
down  by  the  fire.  How  cold  it  is  still !  And  the 


IN  WAR  TIME.  301 

war  is  over  at  last.  I  know  you  must  be  deeply 
glad." 

"  Yes,  I  am  of  all  men  most  thankful  to  be  done 
with  it,  and  to  get  back  to  my  mines  and  my  moun- 
tain home  and  my  books.  I  went  out  to  help  to  do 
a  certain  needful  duty,  and  we  have  done  it  and 
done  it  well,  I  think.  I  wish  I  thought  the  legisla- 
tion which  must  follow  it  would  be  as  temperate 
as  we  who  fought  would  wish  to  have  it,  but  we 
shall  have  no  share  in  the  making  of  it." 

"  Oh,  that  is  what  Mr.  Wilmington  says,"  she 
returned;  "and  I  find  all  the  soldiers  I  see  are 
most  merciful  in  their  talk  about  what  ought  to  be 
done.  Arty  says  that  the  editors  and  the  newspa- 
per people  are  like  the  boys  who  held  the  school- 
books  when  what  he  calls  '  the  fellows  '  had  a  fight, 
and  were  always  more  ferocious  than  those  who 
fought.  However,  I  may  be  keeping  you  need- 
lessly, but  one  must  have  a  little  war  talk.  I  am 
dying  to  know  why  you  wanted  to  see  me.  I  hope," 
she  added,  kindly,  "  that  it  is  for  something  a  friend 
can  do  for  you." 

"  No,"  he  replied  sadly,  "  there  is  nothing  you 
can  do  for  me,  —  nothing  ;  and  in  justice  to  myself, 
let  me  tell  you  beforehand  that  what  I  have  come 
here  to  say  will  put  an  impassable  barrier  between 
you  and  me.  I  know  this  so  well  that  I  have  hesi- 
tated —  hesitated  as  I  have  never  before  hesitated 
in  all  my  life  — but  "  — 

"Then  why,"  she  asked  quickly,  and  feeling  a 
gathering  sense  of  anxiety,  "  why  do  you  say  it?  " 


302  IN   WAR  TIME. 

"  Because  it  is  my  duty,  clearly  my  duty,  as  I 
see  it." 

"  And  —  what  is  it  ?  "  she  returned,  faintly. 

"  I  will  tell  you  in  a  moment,"  he  replied ;  "but 
first  let  me  ask  you  a  question  or  two.  Do  you 
believe  that  I  love  you,  Mrs.  Westerley?" 

"  I  wish  I  did  not.  I  should  be  happier  if  I  did 
not.  I  am  afraid  that  I  know  you  do,"  she  contin- 
ued, greatly  disturbed. 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,  because  then  you  can  under- 
stand that  it  must  be  bitter  for  me  coldly  to  ruin 
that  remnant  of  hope  which  every  man  who  loves 
such  a  woman  as  you  must  have,  do  as  he  will,  rea- 
son as  he  may." 

"  I  think  I  understand,"  she  said,  looking  in  the 
fire;  "at  least  I  can  try  to  put  myself  in  your 
place.  But  what  is  it  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Be  patient  with  me  just  a  moment  more,  as 
with  a  man  about  to  die.  One  question  more,  and 
do  not  be  angry  with  me !  " 

"  No ;  I  can  promise  that.     Go  on." 

"  Are  you  going  to  marry  Dr.  Wendell  ?  " 

Alice  was  certainly  amazed. 

"And  if,"  she  said,  proudly,  "I  decline  to  an- 
swer, —  if  I  do  not  choose  to  answer  ?  " 

"  Then,"  he  said,  now  having  himself  well  in 
hand,  —  "  then  I  should  say  what  I  have  come  to 
say,  merely  to  explain  my  visit;  and  if  it  be  un- 
true that  you  mean  so  to  honor  him,  what  I  should 
say  would  be  of  no  moment,  and  I  should  ask  you 
to  consider  my  words  as  for  you  alone.  But  if,  my 


72V  WAR  TIME.  303 

friend,  —  I  may  call  you  that,  may  1  not  ?  —  if 
you  mean  to  marry  Dr.  Wendell,  then  what  I  have 
to  say  will  have  its  force  for  you,  more  or  less  as 
may  be." 

She  reflected  a  moment,  and  then  answered  him 
gravely,  "  I  spoke  like  a  foolish  girl.  Yes,  I  mean 
to  marry  him.  I  have  not  positively  said  I  would, 
but  I  shall.  And  now  that  I  have  spoken  frankly 
as,  on  this  matter,  to  no  one  else,  may  I  ask  you  in 
mercy  to  do  the  same?  You  must  know  now  that 
you  keep  me  in  most  painful  suspense." 

"  When  a  man  is  signing  the  death-warrant  of 
hope,  he  may  be  pardoned  delay,  but  I  will  be 
brief.  Early  in  the  war,  Mrs.  Westerley,  I  was  in 
West  Virginia,  and  heard  a  good  deal  of  Dr.  Wen- 
dell. What  I  heard  of  him  I  liked  well  enough, 
and  there  is  much  to  like  in  him." 

"  Oh,  go  on,"  she  exclaimed,  impatiently. 

"  We  had  a  fight  on  the  Kanawha,  and  in  falling 
back  three  of  our  surgeons  were  left  at  a  country 
church,  with  a  number  of  badly  wounded  men. 
They  soon  came  under  a  pretty  heavy  fire.  Dr. 
Wendell  was  in  charge.  I  believe  he  had  not  been 
in  action  before.  One  of  the  assistant  surgeons 
was  wounded,  but  Dr.  Wendell  very  soon  showed 
signs  of  uneasiness,  and  at  last  left  his  post  and 
followed  our  retreat.  He  was  permitted  to  leave 
the  army  quietly,  and  in  fact  the  matter  was  for- 
gotten in  the  tumult  of  war;  but  it  came  to  me 
both  ofiicially  and  in  another  way.  I  felt  sorry  for 
him  then,  and  even  now  I  wonder  over  it ;  but  how, 


304  IN   WAR  TIME. 

knowing  this,  could  I  let  a  high-minded  woman, 
whom  I  love,  many  in  ignorance  a  man  who  is  a  "  — 
He  meant  to  say  a  coward,  but  looking  at  the 
woman  who  was  so  dear  to  him  he  hesitated,  while 
Alice  rose  to  her  feet,  overcome  by  a  rush  of  emo- 
tions and  broken  reasonings,  too  hurried  and  too 
wild  for  analysis  or  easy  expression. 

"Stop,"  she  said,  —  "stop!  You  have  said 
enough,  —  you  have  said  too  much  !  I  do  not  be- 
lieve it,  and  I  am  amazed  that  you,  of  all  men, 
should  have  dared  to  tell  me  such  a  tale !  I  do  not 
believe  it !  It  is  but  one  more  of  the  endless  stories 
of  this  kind  which  have  been  blown  about  in  regard 
to  every  one." 

"  No,  it  is  true." 

"  True !  How  dare  you  tell  me  it  is  true !  And 
is  there  no  cowardice  in  repeating  such  a  story  to  a 
woman  ?  " 

"  Cowardice ! "  cried  Fox,  amazed.  "  And  you 
do  not  credit  me,  then  ?  " 

"  No,  it  is  incredible !  " 

"  And  yet,"  he  said,  feeling  that  she  was  adding 
horribly  to  the  bitterness  of  his  distasteful  task,  — 
"  and  yet  it  is  true,  and  officially  on  record.  Hap- 
pily, it  is  known  to  few,  I  am  sure.  He  is  not 
aware  that  I  know  it.  Try  to  feel,  as  you  are  noble 
enough  to  feel,  what  I  must  have  gone  through  in 
deciding  to  bring  to  you  this  miserable  story.  If  I 
could  have  told  you  of  some  noble  action  of  the 
man's,  of  some  deed  of  courage,  on  my  honor, 
Alice,  I  should  rather  have  done  it !  I  should  have 


IN  WAR  TIME.  305 

been  glad  to  do  it.  I  have  given  myself  pain 
which  if  I  could  have  gauged  it  beforehand  would 
have  made  me  falter  even  more." 

Then  they  remained  silent  and  in  thought.  It 
was  impossible  not  to  believe  him,  —  it  was  impos- 
sible to  doubt  a  man  like  Fox ;  but  after  this  — 
what  ?  A  man  might  fail  once,  and  never  again ; 
and  why  must  this  one  defect  be  allowed  to  mar  a 
life,  and  follow  a  man  with  unending  punishment  ? 
But  then  the  shame  of  such  dishonor  rose  up  before 
her  proud  conscience,  and  the  scene  itself  came 
blindingly  into  her  visual  sphere :  men  wounded, 
dying;  a  duty  abandoned  in  terror  of  mere  death! 
How  petty  death  seemed  to  her  !  And  if  it  should 
ever  be  widely  known,  what  would  men  say,  and 
above  all  Mr.  Wilmington,  with  his  old-fashioned 
sense  of  honor,  and  cynical  Morton,  and  the  boys  ? 
She  sat  slowly  twisting  her  handkerchief.  She  felt 
like  a  mariner  on  some  wild  shore,  surf-bruised, 
helpless,  the  sport  of  rock  and  wave,  —  now  ashore, 
now  in  deep  water.  Then  at  last  she  looked  up 
from  the  fire,  and  saw  a  great  tenderness  of  sorrow 
in  the  face  of  the  man  who  looked  at  her. 

"  Pity  me  !  "  she  cried,  and  burst  into  a  passion 
of  tears. 

"  Pity !  "  he  repeated.  "  Ah,  if  I  could  but  take 
the  pain  for  you!  Had  I  thought  it  would  hurt 
you  this  way,  I  —  I  —  would  never  have  spoken." 

"  But  why,  why  did  you  ?  I  was  so  happy,  and 
now  you  must  speak  to  me  —  you  must  say  more. 
I  —  I  —  can't  think.  Perhaps  it  was  just  once? 


306  IN  WAR  TIME. 

He  might  have  been  ill,  who  knows?  God  alone 
can  judge  such  things !  Do  you  think  I  should  let 
it  break  up  and  destroy  all  the  rest  of  a  good  and 
useful  life  ?  "  She  spoke,  as  it  were,  fragments  of 
thought.  "  Who  needs  to  be  —  to  be  —  so  brave 
in  our  e very-day  life !  " 

Fox  was  appalled.  He  hesitated.  How  should 
he  talk  to  this  woman  whom  he  loved,  —  how  say 
to  her  that  courage  is  the  backbone  of  character, 
the  life  of  every  virtue ;  that  in  Wendell's  case  the 
lack  of  it  made  the  true  fulfillment  of  duty  impossi- 
v  ble ;  that  the  want  of  it  had  left  wounded  men  to 
die  who  otherwise  might  have  lived  ?  It  seemed 
to  him  a  thing  so  simply  shameful  that  to  empha- 
size it  with  comment  was  absurd.  But  it  was  plain 
that  he  must  answer  her. 

"I  have  said  what  I  thought  right  to  say.  I 
must  leave  it  to  you  now.  If  it  be  a  small  thing  to 
you,  I  shall  mistrust  my  judgment  of  a  woman  I 
honor.  If  you  choose  to  condone  it,  that  is  your 
business,  not  mine ;  but  as  you  love  truth,  I  pray 
of  you  this  only :  to  believe  that  no  base  jealousy 
has  driven  me  to  speak.  That  man  is  no  more  to 
me  in  life  than  the  fly  on  your  window-pane,  and  1 
end  as  I  began,  by  saying  that  to  be  able  to  come 
to  you  and  try  to  save  a  noble  life  from — no,  I 
will  not  hurt  you  more  —  I  have  paid  a  great  price 
to  enable  me  to  help  you,  if  it  may  be :  for  now 
I  know  that  if  you  decide  one  way  it  will  still  be 
impossible  for  me  to  even  dream  of  presuming  on 
your  freedom  by  a  word,  or  ever  to  make  use  of  the 


IN  WAR  TIME.  307 

freedom  I  have  given  you ;  and  if  —  if  you  decide 
another  way,  and  my  words  remain  as  useless  as 
words  unsaid,  even  then  our  friendship  must  cease 
to  exist,  or  at  least  to  have  any  active  being,  —  for 
surely  you  will  never  care  to  look  upon  my  face 
again,  Alice."  She  felt  that  this  was  true. 

She  was  now  sitting,  wan  and  aghast,  a  little 
sideways  on  a  low  chair,  her  chin  in  her  palm. 

"  It  is  so,  but  don't  go  yet.  I  ought  to  be  angry, 
and  —  I  was  angry.  I  am  not  so  now.  Sit  down. 
I  am  so  dazed  I  cannot  reason,  and  I  am  sure  when 
you  are  gone  I  shall  want  to  have  said  something 
more." 

They  were  silent  again  a  moment.  Then  a  wild 
pang  of  thought  struck  through  her  brain. 

"  Does  he  know  of  this  visit,  of  your  purpose  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,  but  of  course  he  must  know.  I  in- 
tended to  tell  him  first." 

"  But  you  did  not,  you  did  not  ?  "  she  said,  real- 
izing swiftly  the  pain  it  would  be  to  Wendell  to 
know  that  she  had  heard  it  all. 

"  No,  I  did  not,  but  I  shall.  I  have  a  letter  in 
my  pocket  now,  which  I  shall  leave  at  his  house." 

"  Give  it  to  me  !  "  she  cried,  sharply,  rising  and 
coming  towards  him. 

Fox  stood  up.  He  felt  powerless  to  resist  her. 
"  There  it  is,"  he  said. 

She  tore  it  passionately,  and  threw  it  into  the 
fire.  "  And  you  will  not  speak  of  this  to  him  ? 
You  will  not  write  another  letter?  Promise  me. 
I  insist.  I  have  a  right  to  insist.  It  is  all  you 


308  IN  WAR  TIME. 

can  do  for  me.  You  have  been,  ah,  so  bitterly 
cruel  to  me !  Yes,  yes,  I  know ;  duty,  of  course. 
Oh,  my  God  !  my  God  !  " 

"  What !  "  cried  Fox.  "  Say  this  of  a  man  to  a 
woman  he  loves,  and  —  be  silent  to  him  ?  Possibly 
ruin  his  chances  of  a  happy  life,  and  hide  —  Oh, 
I  cannot  do  that,  not  even  for  you.  Then  truly 
you  might  reproach  me  with  cowardice." 

"  But,"  she  returned,  firmly,  "  if  you  knew  it 
would  not  mar  his  happiness,  —  I  mean  what  you 
have  said,  —  then  there  would  have  been  no  harm 
done." 

Fox  moved  back  a  step  or  two,  like  one  recoiling 
from  terror. 

"  Oh,  my  God,"  he  exclaimed,  "  is  this  possible ! 
And  —  and  really  —  It  is  all  as  nothing  to  you  ? 
I  will  not  tell  him,  —  make  yourself  easy  on  that 
matter  ; "  and  so  saying  he  turned  and  went  quickly 
out  of  the  room,  without  more  words,  while  Alice, 
pale  and  stern,  looked  after  him,  speechless. 

She  had  saved  Wendell,  —  of  that  she  was  sure  ; 
but  she  had  saved  him  at  bitter  cost  to  herself,  and 
she  would  have  given  a  year  of  life  to  forget  the 
look  of  scorn,  wonder,  and  disbelief  which  took 
quick  possession  of  the  soldier's  face  as  he  turned 
to  go. 

"  I  shall  never  see  him  again,"  she  said,  "  and 
—  he  does  not  understand.  How  can  he  under- 
stand?" 

Then  the  near  memory  of  the  troubled  hour 
melted  into  a  certain  tenderness  of  thought  about 


IN  WAR  TIME.  309 

the  man  she  loved.  She  loved  him,  —  that  she 
knew  full  well ;  and  she  had  saved  him  from  what 
would  have  been  for  both  one  long  misery.  Be- 
yond this  she  could  not  yet  go.  To  reason  on  it  all 
was  impossible,  and  she  was  shocked  when,  days 
afterwards,  she  saw  Wendell  to  find  that  she  was 
more  undecided  than  before.  Sometimes  remem- 
brance pleads  better  than  any  presence,  and  the 
statue  which  love  carves  has  graces  the  model  never 
knew.  But  despite  her  doubts  she  knew  that  she 
should  marry  Wendell,  for  in  natures  like  hers  the 
maturity  of  a  love  once  born  is  as  certain  as  the 
growth  of  morning. 

Colonel  Fox  went  away  sick  at  heart,  and  for  a 
time  disgusted.  Never  before  had  he  so  laid  bare 
his  soul,  never  fought  so  stern  a  fight  for  self-sub- 
dual. He  had  failed,  he  felt,  —  failed  alike  in  his 
purpose  and  in  command  over  himself ;  for  in  a 
crisis  of  passionate  anguish  like  this  the  individual- 
ities of  men,  repressed  by  decorous  usage,  break 
loose  as  they  did  in  the  early  days  of  the  Renais- 
sance, and  the  true  natures  of  men  and  women 
clash  like  sword  blades  in  the  fury  of  unchecked 
realities. 

He  went  home  and  wrote  briefly  to  Mrs.  Wes- 
terley,  "  Pray  God  to  forgive  me,  dear  friend.  I 
knew  not  what  I  did ;  "  and  then  he  returned  to 
camp,  and  hid  his  trouble  in  the  active  work  of 
breaking  up  his  regiment,  and  in  trying  to  take 
some  thought  of  those  of  his  men  who  needed  help 
or  lacked  immediate  employment. 


XIX. 

EDWARD  had  insisted  upon  taking  what  was 
properly  Arthur's  task,  —  the  telling  of  the  latter's 
engagement  to  Mrs.  Morton.  He  was  well  aware 
that  she  would  listen  to  her  elder  son  when  she 
would  listen  to  no  one  else,  but  he  had  also  other 
reasons  for  desiring  to  come  between  his  mother 
and  brother.  His  own  estate  was  ample,  and  he 
knew  that  she  would  present  arguments  about 
money  which  his  means  gave  him  the  ability  to  put 
aside  ;  moreover,  he  had  taken  this  duty  on  himself 
with  some  vague  sense  of  its  being,  as  it  were,  a 
penance  for  the  wild  desires  which  still  at  times 
shook  his  firmest  resolves. 

He  found  his  mother  busy  in  the  library. 

"  I  want  a  few  moments  of  your  time,  mother," 
he  said. 

She  turned  to  listen,  with  the  gentle  readiness  of 
attention  she  had  always  for  him.  "  What  is  it, 
my  boy?" 

"  I  have  asked  Arty  to  let  me  tell  you  of  his  en- 
gagement to  Hester.  It  is  a  great  pleasure  to  me, 
for  you  know  I  am  very,  very  fond  of  her." 

"  Engaged  to  Arthur  !  Nonsense,  Edward,  they 
are  mere  children ;  and  if  they  were  not,  it  is  a 
thing  I  should  totally  disapprove,  —  totally !  I 
shall  tell  Arthur  so.  I  can  understand  very  well 


IN  WAR  TIME.  311 

why  he  was  unwilling  to  speak  to  me  about  it. 
There  was  a  time  when  I  was  consulted  about  the 
affairs  of  my  own  household." 

"  But,  my  dear  mother,"  said  Edward,  a  little 
amused,  despite  his  sore  heart,  "  these  are  not  chil- 
dren, and  you  must  have  seen  what  was  going  on. 
As  for  Arthur,  he  has  made  a  name  for  himself, 
and  so  far  as  I  can  see  has  the  right  every  man  has 
to  marry  whom  he  will.  War  ages  people  fast, 
••/mother." 

"  Marry !  "  she  returned,  —  "  marry,  indeed  ! 
On  what  is  he  to  marry  ?  They  have  neither  of 
them  a  cent." 

"  But  I  don't  suppose  he  wants  to  marry  her  to- 
morrow. Fox  wishes  him  to  take  a  share  in  his 
iron  works,  so  as  to  be  himself  more  at  liberty  ;  and 
I  mean,  if  you  don't  altogether  disapprove,  —  and 
you  won't,  will  you,  mother  ?  —  to  give  Arty  the 
capital  he  will  require." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Morton,  petulantly,  "  it 
is  all  to  be  managed  without  the  slightest  reference 
to  me.  An  unknown  girl,  half  educated,  coming 
from  nobody  knows  where,  and  brought  up  by  these 
common  Yankee  Wendells  ! "  \ 

Clearly  Mrs.  Morton  was  angry  and  unjust. 

"  They  may  be  plain,  but  common  or  vulgar  they 
are  not ;  and  really,  you  know,  as  to  what  you  say 
about  Hester,  my  dear  mother,  that  is  —  well,  not 
quite  true.  The  Grays  are  good  old  Carolina  peo- 
ple. Now  please  don't  talk  so.  It  is  n't  like  you. 
It  is  n't  at  all  like  you." 


312  IN   WAR  TIME. 

"  Still,  among  them,  Ned,  they  have  trapped  AT- 
thur  ;  and  as  to  the  girl  "  — 

"  Stop,  mother  !  "  he  entreated  ;  "  don't  say  any 
more.  No  one  has  trapped  him.  You  hurt  me." 

"  Hurt  you  !     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  had  not  meant  to  tell  even  you,  dear  mother, 
but  now  I  must.  I  loved  her  myself,  mother,  —  I 
most  dearly  loved  her  !  But  I  am  an  old,  battered, 
useless  man,  and  no  fair  young  life  like  that  is  to 
be  mine." 

"  You  loved  her,"  she  said  softly,  "  and  he  has 
taken  her  from  you.  Oh,  my  boy  !  " 

"  No,  you  are  again  unjust.  Neither  she  nor  he 
knows  this,  or  ever  will  know  it.  No  one  but  you 
knows  it." 

"  My  poor  Ned  !     Ah,  if  only  I  could  help  you." 

"  But  you  can  help  me.  No  one  can  help  me 
better  than  by  bringing  Hester  as  near  to  me  as  it 
is  God's  good  will  that  she  should  be." 

"  There  is  nothing  you  can  say,  my  son,  that  has 
not  full  weight  with  me ;  but  about  this  matter  I 
should  have  been  consulted  sooner.  I  must  think 
about  it.  Oh,  if  it  had  been  you,  Ned,  you  would 
have  told  me." 

"  I  don't  know  that,  mother ;  and  you  must  re- 
member that  it  is  my  fault  he  did  not  tell  you." 

"  And  you  loved  this  girl,  my  son,  and  you  gave 
her  away." 

"  No,  she  went  away,"  said  Ned,  smiling. 

"  Who  is  that  on  the  porch,  Ned  ?  " 

"It  is  Miss  Ann." 


IN   WAR  TIME.  313 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  her.  I  do  not  want  to  see 
any  one.  I  shall  never  get  over  this,  Edward,  — 
never." 

"  She  may  have  come  about  this  very  thing.  It 
would  be  quite  like  her  straightforward  ways.  I 
am  sure  she  will  feel,  mother,  that  she  is  in  the 
place  of  a  mother  to  Hester,  and,  knowing  how 
much  her  brother  owes  to  you,  will  think  as  I  do, 
—  that  we  can  do  nothing  without  you." 

"  It  would  be  a  very  correct  and  proper  feeling 
for  her  to  have,  but  I  am  surprised  that  any  one 
either  thinks  or  feels  correctly  nowadays." 

"  But  you  will  see  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  as  you  wish  it.  The  servants  know  that 
I  am  at  home." 

"And  shall  I  go?" 

"No.     Why  should  you?" 

Miss  Ann  entered,  looking  rosy  and  plump,  with 
her  usual  expression  of  undisturbed  calm.  Duties 
were  not  always  pleasant  to  Ann,  but  they  were  to 
be  done,  and  done  effectively,  like  any  household 
tasks.  In  ordinary  social  intercourse  Mrs.  Mor- 
ton was  a  trifle  dreaded  by  Ann  Wendell,  who  felt 
that  her  own  ways  were  not  as  the  ways  of  these 
people  ;  but  in  matters  of  graver  nature  no  human 
being  would  have  awed  or  stayed  the  spinster  for  a 
moment. 

There  was  a  hearty  welcome  from  Edward  Mor- 
ton, and  a  kind  but  not  over-hearty  greeting  from 
his  mother,  who,  as  Ned  said  afterwards,  had  on  a 
black  silk  dress  and  her  sternest  expression,  and 


314  IN  WAR  TIME. 

who,  with  the  light  of  battle  in  her  eyes,  looked  at 
the  rosy,  plump  little  woman  as  if  she  were  an 
emissary  from  the  camp  of  the  foe. 

Ann  Wendell  talked  very  little  at  any  time,  and 
was  unskilled  in  the  civilized  art  of  saying  non- 
committal nothings.  The  winds  and  the  storms  in- 
terested her,  and  she  spoke  of  them,  but  with  an 
uncommon  earnestness ;  and  this  was  because  she 
had  been  born  on  Cape  Cod,  and  they  had  been  the 
rough  playmates  of  her  calm  and  ordered  child- 
hood. But  her  talk  about  weather  was  almost  the 
only  minor  chat  she  knew  how  to  use.  She  was 
disturbed  as  she  came  in  by  the  presence  of  Ed- 
ward Morton,  and  thinking  he  might  leave  before 
long  was  relieved  when  Mrs.  Morton,  who  felt  the 
need  of  a  little  neutral  conversation,  began  with 
the  usual  commonplace  introductories. 

"Did  you  walk  over,  Miss  Wendell?  What  a 
famous  walker  you  are!  In  these  delicious  May 
days  it  is  a  pleasure  to  breathe.  But  you  ought  to 
wear  a  veil ;  the  wind  burns  one  so  badly." 

"  Yes,  I  walked.  It  is  n't  very  far.  I  have 
never  been  brought  up  to  wear  veils ; "  and  then 
she  added  with  consecutive  exactness  of  reply, 
"  You  mentioned  the  weather ;  I  don't  feel  quite 
sure  about  it.  It  looks  like  a  northeaster  brewing, 
and  you  know  that  makes  one  anxious.  It's  so 
bad  for  the  fishermen." 

Mrs.  Morton  did  not  know,  but  she  felt  faintly 
amused,  which  was  well  just  at  this  time. 

"Indeed,   I    hardly  ever  notice    the    weather 


IN   WAR   TIME.  315 

much.  I  am  luckily  one  of  those  happy  people 
who  have  no  interest  in  the  weather-cock." 

"  I  wish  I  had  not,"  said  her  son.  "  I  think  old 
Nick  invented  the  east  wind." 

"  The  winds  are  all  of  God's  sending,  Edward," 
returned  Ann,  gently  shaking  her  head,  and  with 
some  mild  censure  in  her  tones,  while  Mrs.  Morton 
looked  up  abruptly,  with  displeased  surprise  that 
this  woman  should  address  her  eldest  son  in  this 
familiar  fashion.  She  had  heard  her  do  so  before, 
but  just  now  was  doubly  ready  to  make  disagree- 
able comments. 

"And  so  are  many  unpleasant  things,  Miss 
Ann,"  said  Edward,  smiling.  "  But  you  see,  if  the 
winds  were  predestined,  I  was  predestined  to  abuse 
them,  and  so  it 's  all  a  part  of  the  foreordained  ar- 
rangements of  the  universe."  He  liked  to  puzzle 
Ann  Wendell. 

"  Yes,  I  dare  say,"  returned  Ann,  seriously,  get- 
ting her  mind  in  order  for  a  skirmish  on  free  will, 
and  the  like. 

"  My  dear  Ned,"  said  Mrs.  Morton,  smiling, 
"  you  are  a  great  preacher  lost.  Won't  you  take 
off  your  cloak,  Miss  Wendell?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,"  she  replied.  "  I  have  but  a  few 
minutes.  I  came  over  to  talk  to  you  about  a  thing 
which  has  been  on  my  mind ;  a  matter  "  — 

"  And  shall  I  leave  you  with  mother  ?  " 

"Is  it  about  Miss  Hester  Gray?"  asked  Mrs. 
Morton,  who  was  getting  impatient. 

"  Yes,  it  is  about  her ;  but  I  was  thinking  that 
perhaps  your  son  "  — 


316  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  If  it  is  about  Hester  I  should  prefer  that  Mr. 
Morton  stayed.  We  were  discussing  that  very  dis- 
agreeable affair  when  you  came  in,  and  as  Edward 
represents  his  father,  just  now,  it  is  my  wish  that 
he  remain.  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  go  on, 
Miss  Wendell?" 

Ann  did  not  like  it,  but  the  formal  directness  of 
this  speech  in  no  way  troubled  her ;  and  she  felt 
that  after  all  it  was  a  family  matter,  and  that  Mrs. 
Morton  had  a  right  to  choose  who  should  be  pres- 
ent. 

"It  must  be  as  you  like.  You  know  —  I  sup- 
pose you  know  —  that  Arthur  has  asked  Hester  to 
marry  him,  and  that  she  has  said  she  would." 

"Yes,  I  have  heard  as  much,"  returned  Mrs. 
Morton,  stiffly. 

"  I  am  sorry,  very  sorry,  about  it.  I  did  not 
think  it  would  have  come  about  so  soon,  or  I  should 
have  felt  it  my  duty  to  speak  of  it  before.  I  am  to 
blame,  because  I  know,  and  I  think  you  must 
know,  that  it  is  a  thing  which  can  never  be." 

"  Never  be !  "  broke  in  Edward.  "  Why,  what 
reason  on  earth,  Miss  Ann,  can  you  have  to  say 
that?" 

"  Be  so  good  as  to  keep  quiet,  Edward !  "  ex- 
claimed his  mother.  "  I  am  glad  to  hear  a  little 
common  sense  from  some  one.  Pray  go  on,  Miss 
Wendell.  I  quite  agree  with  you." 

A  little  puzzled,  Ann  hesitated  for  a  moment, 
but  only  for  a  moment.  "  I  was  afraid,"  she  con- 
tinued, "that  I  was  wrong.  It  is  very  difficult  to  be 


IN  WAR  TIME.  317 

always  right,  but  I  could  not  see  how  any  one  who 
knew  what  we  know  could  just  look  on  and  say 
nothing." 

"  Knew  what  we  know  ?  "  repeated  Mrs.  Morton. 
"  I  don't  quite  clearly  understand  you." 

"  Nor  I,"  added  Edward. 

"  And  yet  you  do  know  that  when  Captain  Gray 
was  dying  he  said  over  and  over  that  it  was  your 
husband  who  killed  him ;  and  can  a  dying  man 
lie  ?  The  law  says  he  cannot." 

"And  have  you  really  kept  that  nonsense  in 
your  head  all  this  time  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Morton. 

"I  have  had  it  on  my  mind,"  replied  Ann. 
"  But  it  is  not  nonsense.  The  law  says  "  — 

"  But  the  law  deals  thus  only  with  the  sane !  " 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Morton,  bewildered  an  instant  by 
the  firm  hold  which  this  incident  had  obtained  on 
Ann's  faith. 

"What  does  this  all  mean,  mother?"  said  Ed- 
ward. "  I  have  listened  simply  with  astonishment, 
but  our  good  friend  Miss  Ann  is  not  a  rash  or  hasty 
talker.  Please  explain  it  to  me.  What  does  it 
mean  ?  " 

"It  is  easily  explained,  Edward.  Hester's  fa- 
ther died  delirious  at  the  hospital,  and  unhappily 
occupied  the  bed  next  to  your  father.  Something 
your  father  said  put  it  in  Captain  Gray's  mind 
that  the  shot  which  finally  cost  him  his  life  was 
fired  by  your  father.  This  idea  incessantly  haunted 
his  brain,  and  at  last  was  so  annoying  that  we 
were  obliged  to  move  your  father  before  it  was 


318  IN  WAR  TIME. 

quite  prudent.  I  have  heard  that  poor  Gray  raved 
about  this  delusion  until  he  died." 

"  But "  —  said  Ann. 

"  One  moment,  excuse  me,"  continued  Mrs. 
Morton.  "This  is  the  simple  statement  of  what 
happened.  Mr.  Morton  said  it  was  impossible  and 
absurd ;  Dr.  Lagrange  and  Dr.  Wendell  said  the 
same ;  and  now  comes  Miss  Wendell  to  ask  us  to 
consider  this  story  from  a  tragic  point  of  view !  " 

It  certainly  did  seem  to  Edward  as  nearly  ludi- 
crous as  so  grave  a  matter  could  be. 

"  Does  n't  it  seem  strange,  Miss  Ann,  that  you, 
of  all  these  various  people,  should  be  the  only  one 
to  continue  to  think  seriously  of  this  matter?  Can- 
not you  see  in  what  an  exceptional  position  it 
places  you?  Can  you  be  right,  and  all  these  oth- 
ers who  know  more  of  it  than  you  altogether 
wrong?  Surely  you  cannot  have  reflected  upon 
the  matter." 

"  But  he  said  it,  —  he  said  it,"  urged  Ann, 
firmly.  For  years  she  had  brooded  over  this,  and 
now  it  had  become  for  her  a  fact  not  to  be  ques- 
tioned. To  pass  it  over  in  silence  appeared  an  in- 
conceivable mode  of  dealing  with  what  was  for  her 
an  awful  reality. 

"  Said  it  !  Of  course  he  said  it,"  answered  Mrs. 
Morton ;  "  I  heard  him  say  it.  But  what  then  ? 
Dying  men  say  many  silly  things,  and  Dr.  La- 
grange  told  me  that  this  was  perfectly  nonsensical. 
In  fact,  how  could  the  man  know  who  hurt  him, 
in  such  a  scene  as  that  ?  " 


IN  WAR  TIME.  319 

"  But  Colonel  Morton  told  him  it  was  so,"  re- 
plied Ann. 

"  Told  him  !  Nonsense.  That,  at  least,  is  dis- 
tinctly untrue." 

"  Your  husband  will  not  say  so,  I  am  sure,"  in- 
sisted Ann. 

"  And  I  am  as  sure  he  will,"  said  Edward.  "  I 
never  heard  the  story  before,  but  of  all  the  absurd 
things  I  ever  did  hear  this  seems  to  me  the  most 
so." 

"Indeed,  I  agree  with  you,"  said  Mrs.  Mor- 
ton. 

"  And  how  could  you,  Miss  Ann,  of  all  people," 
urged  Edward,  "  entertain  for  a  moment  such  an 
idea  ?  Cannot  you  see  what  an  impossible  thing  it 
is,  and  what  mischief  it  may  make  ?  " 

"  We  must  do  our  duty,  and  leave  the  issues  to 
God.  It  is  true,  —  I  am  sure  it  is  true.  I  think  I 
am  sure,"  she  added,  recalling  what  Dr.  Lagrange 
was  reported  to  have  said.  "  Even  if  you  do  not 
credit  it,  Hester  must  be  enabled  to  use  her  own 
judgment  upon  it.  I  shall  tell  her." 

"  No,  by  heavens,  no !  "  cried  Edward,  angrily. 

"But  I  must." 

"  You  cannot  dream  of  such  a  course,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Morton.  "  Eemember  that  my  husband,  Ar- 
thur, all  of  us,  are  concerned!  It  seems  to  me, 
Miss  Wendell,  a  strange  return  for  what  we  have 
tried  to  do  for  your  brother." 

"Mother,  mother!  "  said  Edward. 

Ann  began  to  see  that  there  were  several  sides  to 


320  IN  WAR  TIME. 

this  question,  clear  as  it  had  seemed  to  her,  plain  as 
she  had  thought  that  it  must  be  to  every  one. 

"  I  am  not  ungrateful.  We  owe  you  much,"  and 
her  eyes  filled.  "  I  have  not  wanted  to  be  unjust, 
and  least  of  all  to  you  and  yours." 

"  Oh,  my  mother  did  not  mean  that,"  declared 
Edward. 

"No,"  assented  Mrs.  Morton,  "I  did  not;  but 
when  such  absolute  nonsense  is  talked,  how  can  we 
stop  to  choose  our  words  !  " 

Ann  was  hurt  and  troubled.  "  And  what  can  I 
do  ?  "  she  asked,  much  moved.  "  I  see  before  me 
a  duty.  To  you  it  is  absurd.  And  yet  it  remains. 
I  ask  you,  as  a  Christian  woman,  what  can  I  do  ?  " 

"  Do  ?     Do  nothing,"  returned  Mrs.  Morton. 

"Wait,  at  least,  till  I  hear  from  my  father," 
urged  Edward,  sensibly,  little  knowing  the  train  of 
events  his  purpose  was  to  start. 

"  You  will  believe  him,  I  presume  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
Morton. 

"  If  he  can  say  that  it  was  not  so,  and  can  show 
us  that  it  was  not,  I  shall  believe." 

Edward  was  somewhat  amused  at  her  doubts, 
but  also  much  relieved.  "That  will  answer  per. 
fectly.  And  you  and  I  will  talk  it  all  over.  I  am 
sure  I  can  satisfy  you,  —  quite  sure.  And  you  will 
not  speak  of  this  to  Hester  until  we  have  heard 
from  my  father." 

"  No,  I  will  not ;  not  now,  at  least." 

"  Then  it  is  settled  ?  " 

"  Yes,  for  the  present ; "  and  she  rose  and  went 


IN  WAR  TIME.  321 

away,  not  quite  as  well  satisfied  with  herself  as  she 
had  been. 

"  Yet  I  was  right,"  she  thought;  "  if  it  were  only 
an  accident  of  war,  I  should  still  be  right !  " 

"  Well,  my  son,"  said  Mrs.  Morton,  rather  illog- 
ically,  "you  see  what  comes  of  association  with 
such  people  as  these,  and  how  it  ends  ?  " 

Edward  smiled.  "Hardly.  But,  mother,  did 
you  ever  dream  or  hear  of  such  inconceivable  non- 
sense? Poor  Miss  Ann  has  lived  so  out  of  the 
world  that  she  is  really  to  be  excused ;  but  the  mis- 
chief of  it  all,  mother,  —  the  mischief !  Why,  the 
mere  whisper  of  such  a  thing  would  craze  a  girl 
like  Hester ;  and  then  —  poor  Arty  !  " 

"  I  said  it  could  n't  possibly  come  to  any  good, 
and  now  you  see." 

"  But  it  must  come  to  good,  mother,  and  it  will. 
And  now  you  are  going  to  try  to  see  it  as  I  do,  and 
think  what  it  will  be  for  me  to  have  a  sister  like 
Hester." 

"  I  shall  do,  as  I  have  always  done,  the  best  for 
my  children ;  but  I  am  sure  your  father  won't 
like  it." 

"Wait  till  he  hears  what  I  say,"  he  returned. 
"  I  shall  write  at  once.  I  cannot  get  this  thing  out 
of  my  head.  It  seems  to  me  so  full  of  danger." 

"It  is  certainly  very  disagreeable.  You  may 
say  to  Arthur,  Ned,  that  I  will  think  it  over.  I 
cannot  see  my  way  to  any  conclusion  as  yet ;  and 
meanwhile  I  would  rather  not  talk  to  him  about  it." 

"But  won't  he  feel  hurt?" 


322  72V  WAR  TIME 

"  That  he  should  have  thought  about  before," 
she  said,  and  went  up-stairs,  resolving  that  she 
would  talk  it  all  over  with  Alice  Westerley,  who 
had  heard  this  strange  tale,  and  who,  as  her  friend 
remembered,  had  simply  smiled  at  it  as  a  matter  of 
odd  interest. 

Edward  wrote  at  once  to  his  father,  inclosing  a 
note  from  Arthur,  and  with  less  patience  than  was 
usual  with  him  awaited  a  reply. 


XX. 

MRS.  GRACE  by  degrees  recovered  from  the 
shock  of  her  tilt  with  Mrs.  Westerley.  Hers  was 
a  moral  constitution  not  prone  to  suffer  long  from 
wounds,  and  she  soon  began  again  to  take  a  com- 
placent interest  in  the  affairs  of  her  neighbors. 
She  had  not  quite  liked  a  letter  she  had  received 
from  Colonel  Fox,  and  had  also  had  some  difficulty 
in  explaining  to  Mr.  Grace  what  she  had  done  to 
justify  her  cousin's  refusal  to  act  longer  as  her 
trustee.  At  present  she  was  a  good  deal  taken  up 
with  her  daughter,  who  was  malarious  from  much 
S  furtive  ingestion  of  bon-bons ;  but  the  mother  still 
found  leisure  to  do  a  little  dull  talk  when  occasion 
offered.  It  had  seemed  to  her  that  it  was  wise  to 
ignore  Alice  Westerley's  rebuffs,  and  she  therefore 
lost  no  occasion  to  speak  to  her,  —  a  course  alike 
unpleasing  and  amazing  to  her  sensitive  victim. 

There  had  been  a  meeting  at  Miss  Clemson's 
house,  and  the  rooms  had  been  filled  with  women 
interested  in  the  care  of  the  orphans  made  by  the 
war.  As  usual  Mrs.  Morton  kept  things  straight, 
and  so  checked  diffusive  talk  that  the  work  was 
soon  over  and  assigned  to  committees.  Then  most 
of  the  women  went  away,  and  the  few  who  were 
left  fell  to  chatting. 


324  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Miss  Clemson  looked  taller  than  ever  in  her 
small  rooms,  and  also  more  gaunt,  having  adopted 
a  new  and  wholesome  but  implacable  kind  of  dress, 
which  seemed  to  have  disposed,  once  for  all,  of  the 
kindly  curves  of  the  human  frame. 

"Where  did  you  get  the  pattern  of  that  table 
cover  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Grace. 

"  Is  n't  it  quaint?  "  said  Miss  Clemson.  "  Miss 
Wendell  made  it;  or  rather,  to  be  precise,  Miss 
Gray  made  it  after  a  design  which  Miss  Wendell 
gave  her ;  but  I  added  the  fringe  myself." 

"  It  is  very  nice,"  assented  Mrs.  Grace.  "  I  sup- 
pose we  shall  soon  have  news  of  Hester  Gray  and 
Arthur  Morton.  But  how  his  mother  will  hate  it ! 
Not  a  cent,  my  dear.  And  in  her  old  age,  too !  " 

"  Really,"  returned  Miss  Clemson,  "  the  interest 
which  marriage  appears  to  possess  for  some  people, 
Mrs.  Grace,  is  curious  to  me." 

"  But  why  curious  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Bullock.  "  I 
can  understand  your  own  indifference  to  it,  my  dear. 
It 's  a  bad  habit  you  acquired  young  :  "  which  was 
true,  since  in  her  blonde  youth  Miss  Clemson  had 
been  fatal;  but  then  and  always  had  vaguely  re- 
sented the  admiration  of  men. 

"Why?"  she  returned.  "If  you  would  read 
Quetelet  or  Buckle,  you  would  see  that  marriage  is 
purely  a  matter  of  statistics.  Given  so  many  men 
and  women,  there  will  be  just  so  many  marriages. 
The  unit  in  such  matters  is  of  mere  fractional 
value." 

"  I  don't  think  I  quite  approve  of  your  views/ 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Grace. 


IN   WAR  TIME.  325 

"  I  dare  say,"  said  Miss  Clemson,  indifferently  ; 
and  then  Mrs.  Bullock  laughed. 

At  that  moment  Alice  Westerley,  who  overheard 
them,  and  who  was  in  high  good  humor,  joined  the 
group. 

"  Don't  any  of  you  trust  Jane  Clemson  on  the 
subject  of  marriage,"  she  said.  "  After  filling  her 
wigwam  with  countless  scalps,  she  sits  down  and 
says  that  nobody  else  ought  to  go  on  the  war-path." 

"  I  don't  think,"  rejoined  Miss  Clemson,  who 
took  all  discussion  gravely,  —  "I  don't  think  that 
marriage  should  be  the  single  goal  of  a  woman's 
existence.  Let  us  educate  women  as  well  as  men 
are  educated,  and  then  they  will  have  so  many 
higher  aims  in  life  that  they  will  not  condescend 
to  dress  and  talk  and  dance  merely  to  please  men." 

"  I  should  think  that  just  a  little  ignorance 
might  be  conducive  to  bliss  in  these  days,"  said 
Alice.  "  I  should  like  to  start  a  rival  college,  with 
professorships  of  the  art  of  pleasing.  What  not 
to  know  should  be  one  branch  of  study.  Your  wise 
girl  graduates  would  be  nowhere." 

"  Men  will  never  truly  respect  us,"  returned 
Miss  Clemson,  "until  we  compete  with  them  in 
their  universities  and  in  their  professions." 

"  I  shall  advise  Arty  to  apply  for  admission  at 
Vassar." 

"  I  don't  think  he  could  pass." 

"  Perhaps  not.  It  would  depend  somewhat  on 
the  age  of  the  examiners.  But  I  must  speak  to 
Helen  Morton  before  I  go,"  and  she  turned  away, 
laughing. 


326  IN   WAR   TIME. 

"  It  is  impossible  for  Alice  to  discuss  anything 
seriously,"  said  Miss  Clemson.  "  It  is  really  a  sad 
defect  in  so  fine  a  nature." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  murmured  Mrs.  Grace, 
to  whom  the  remark  was  not  addressed. 

Miss  Clemson  rather  resented  her  assenting  opin- 
ion, but  said  nothing  further. 

Then  Mrs.  Bullock  spoke  with  decisiveness  about 
the  warmth  of  the  weather. 

"  Yes.  It  seems  nearly  impossible  to  regulate 
the  temperature  of  one's  rooms.  I  looked  at  my 
thermometers  before  you  came,  but  they  don't  quite 
agree.  One  does  expect  thermometers  to  agree, 
even  if  people  do  not.  Please  to  open  that  window 
behind  you,  Mrs.  Bullock." 

"  Dr.  Withers,"  remarked  Mrs.  Grace,  "  says 
that  I  keep  my  house  too  cool ;  but  Sarah  —  she 
is  never  hot  enough." 

"  Dr.  Withers !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bullock.  "  I 
thought  Dr.  Wendell  attended  you." 

"  Not  now.  I  could  not  get  him  to  come  into 
my  views.  He  says  Sarah  has  no  liver." 

"  Rather  odd,  that,  I  must  say,"  commented  Miss 
Clemson. 

"  Yes,  was  n't  it? —  when  I  know  she  is  just  all 
liver  and  malaria,  and  that 's  what 's  the  matter 
with  her.  But  then  he  never  was  of  much  account 
about  livers,  and  they  do  say  his  practice  is  going 
to  pieces.  Mrs.  Starr  has  left  him,  and  Mrs.  Evans 
is  going  to  give  him  up." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Mrs.  Bullock,  who  had  also 


IN  WAR  TIME.  327 

her  views  as  concerned  doctors,  —  "I  am  afraid  he 
doesn't  consider  constitutions  enough.  There  is 
everything  in  knowing  people's  constitutions." 

"  I  hope  you  are  both  wrong,"  responded  Miss 
Clemson,  who  liked  Wendell.  "  I  never  change 
my  doctor." 

"  Oh,  don't  you  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Grace. 

"  Because  I  never  have  one  !  "  cried  Miss  Clem- 
son,  laughing. 

During  this  Mrs.  Westerley,  who  was  pretending 
to  sympathize  with  a  sad  tale  of  departing  cooks, 
and  like  grievances,  was  keenly  listening  to  the 
chat  beside  her.  She  knew  that  Wendell  was  not 
keeping  his  patients,  and  a  sense  of  indignant 
annoyance  arose  in  her  mind  that  this  wretched 
woman  should  dare  to  sit  in  judgment  on  a  man 
like  Wendell.  She  felt  more  and  more  that  she, 
at  least,  must  stand  by  him.  Then  a  new  phase  of 
the  talk  caught  her  ear. 

"I  don't  think,"  continued  Miss  Clemson,  who 
never  allowed  abuse  of  the  absent,  "  that  people 
here  appreciate  Dr.  Wendell's  abilities.  He  ought 
to  be  in  a  great  city.  I  think  myself  that  it  is 
very  difficult  to  judge  of  a  physician.  We  have  n't 
the  opportunities  or  even  the  knowledge." 

"I  dare  say,"  replied  Mrs.  Bullock,  who  was 
facile  in  abandoning  her  opinions.  "And  I  must 
say  this  for  Dr.  Wendell :  he  went  last  week  to  see 
my  farmer's  wife,  and  she  and  three  of  her  children 
had  small-pox  ;  and  I  can  tell  you  if  I  were  a  doc- 
tor I  certainly  would  not  attend  cases  of  small-pox  ! 
I  did  hear  that  Dr.  Withers  would  n't  go." 


328  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  it  is  n't  his  specialty,"  explained 
Mrs.  Grace  ;  "  and  after  all,  it  is  their  business." 

"  Still,  I  think  it  is  a  brave  thing,"  said  Miss 
Clemson,  "  to  face  diseases  as  they  do.  I  call  a 
man  brave  who  just  coolly  goes  as  an  e very-day 
affair,  and  takes  these  risks.  It  is  the  only  pur- 
suit in  quiet  times  in  which  the  peril  is  incessant 
and  the  call  for  quiet  courage  constant." 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  my  doctor  does  n't  go  to  such 
cases,"  said  Mrs.  Grace.  "  But  I  must  speak  to 
Mrs.  Morton." 

Alice  listened  eagerly.  It  soothed  her  immeas- 
urably to  feel  that  here  was  some  one  who  could 
call  Wendell  brave.  She  would  have  liked  to  kiss 
the  tall  spinster,  who  had  thus  ignorantly  poured 
balm  on  her  wounds,  but  contented  herself  with 
saying,  as  she  turned  to  leave,  — 

"  My  dear,  how  well  you  look !  And  what  is 
your  secret  for  keeping  a  complexion  like  a  baby's  ? 
It  must  be  the  way  you  're  dressed  ;  but  then  you 
women  who  never  think  about  such  things  have 
always  the  nicest  dresses  ; "  for  which  little  fib  let 
us  hope  the  fair  widow  may  be  forgiven,  and  her 
flattery  set  down  to  an  honest  desire  to  pay  her 
debts  with  usury  thereto. 

Altogether  the  morning  had  been  a  good  one  for 
her  lover,  and  with  a  new  tenderness  and  a  pride 
that  set  her  wondering  if  Fox  himself  would  have 
stood  this  other  test  of  courage,  she  went  out  into 
the  May  sunshine  feeling  in  pleasant  accord  with 
the  weather. 


IN  WAR  TIME.  329 

Then  Mrs.  Morton  overtook  her,  and  said  that 
she  would  walk  to  her  house,  as  she  had  something 
to  say  to  her;  and  so,  leaving  the  other  women, 
they  turned  into  Mrs.  Westerley's  gate.  In  the 
drawing-room  they  found  Hester  and  Mr.  Wil- 
mington, who  was  apt  to  make  some  excuse  to  see 
Mrs.  Westerley  as  often  as  he  could.  He  had  not 
misused  his  leisure,  and  in  fact  preferred,  as  he 
said,  one  woman  at  a  time. 

"  So,  Miss  Hester,"  he  had  remarked,  "  Master 
Arthur  has  been  saying  pretty  things  to  you,  I 
hear?" 

"  Indeed,  you  must  be  misinformed,"  replied  the 
young  lady,  beginning  to  grow  quite  unreasonably 
warm. 

"  Oh,  but  he  has  told  me  all  about  it "  said 
Wilmington. 

"  Then  you  had  best  not  believe  a  word  he  says," 
she  returned,  smiling.  "  I  never  do." 

"  Watch  him  well,  my  dear ;  watch  him  well. 
The  godfather  who  could  renounce  for  any  of  that 
Morton  breed  the  devil  and  the  —  What 's  the 
rest  of  it  ?  " 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  "  answered  Hester.  "  I 
never  was  a  godfather." 

"  Nor  I.  But  there  is  something  they  renounce. 
I  would  n't  do  it  for  Edward,  and  I  would  n't  for 
Arthur.  Oh,  you  are  a  rash  young  woman  !  " 

"  But  I  am  not  to  be  a  godfather ;  and  with 
your  counsel,"  she  returned  archly,  "  and  your  ex- 
perience of  those  things  he  ought  to  have  had  re- 


330  IN  WAR  TIME. 

nounced  for  him,  don't  you  think  we  may  get 
along?" 

"  Oh,  it 's  '  we  '  now  !  Be  very  good,  and  tell 
me  what  you  want  for  a  wedding  present." 

"  A  house,  and  a  carriage  and  four,"  she  cried, 
laughing. 

"  Gracious,  I  shall  be  a  ruined  man  !  But  here 
come  Mrs.  Westerley  and  Mrs.  Morton." 

"  Oh !  "  exclaimed  Hester,  who  had  not  seen  the 
latter  lady  for  some  time,  and  who  dreaded  the  en- 
counter. Mrs.  Westerley  kissed  her,  and  Mrs. 
Morton  asked  how  she  was,  and  was  coldly  civil, 
as  such  a  woman  well  knows  how  to  be ;  while  poor 
Hester,  who  fully  understood  that  she  was  by  no 
means  to  be  welcomed  into  the  Morton  family,  felt 
as  if  no  corner  could  be  undesirably  small  as  a 
refuge. 

Wilmington  was  aware  that  there  was  an  unpleas- 
ant check  in  Hester's  love  affair,  and  he  also  liked 
to  annoy  Mrs.  Morton  at  times ;  so  partly  from 
disapproval  of  her  present  course,  and  partly  from 
habit,  he  lapsed  into  the  repetitions  which  were  apt 
to  overtake  him  when  with  more  than  one  person, 
or  when  it  pleased  him  not  to  help  the  talk. 

"  I  don't  think  Edward  is  very  well,"  said  Mrs. 
Morton,  speaking  past  Hester. 

"No,  he  isn't  well,"  muttered  Wilmington. 
"Looks  sick." 

"  And  I  have  lost  two  cows  in  a  week." 

"  Two  cows  in  a  week !  " 

"  Don't  you  think  that  is  atrociously  bad  luck, 
Mr.  Wilmington?" 


IN  WAR  TIME.  331 

"  Yes,  that 's  bad  luck." 

Then  Mrs.  Morton  felt  forced  to  fall  back  on 
Hester,  as  Mrs.  Westerley,  standing  apart,  had  just 
said,  "  Pardon  me,  Helen,  I  must  open  these  notes." 
She  began  to  talk  to  Hester  about  her  studies,  and 
was  presently  struck  with  the  girl's  gentle  self-pos- 
session. 

"And  was  Edward  a  good  teacher?"  she  in- 
quired, watching  her  critically. 

"  Surely,"  thought  Hester,  quite  conscious  of  be- 
ing under  inspection,  "a  mother-in-law  that  is  to 
be  is  terrible ; "  and  then,  remembering  whose 
mother  she  was,  her  pride  melted.  "But  what 
woman  would  want  to  let  a  girl  like  me  marry  such 
a  son  as  Arty?"  And  thinking  thus,  she  replied, 
"  Oh,  Mrs.  Morton,  Mr.  Edward  was  the  best  of 
teachers  ;  and  who  is  there  like  him  ?  I  think  him 
the  best  of  men." 

Wilmington  opened  his  eyes  at  her,  murmured, 
"Indeed!"  and  relapsed  into  what  might  have 
seemed  slumber  to  those  who  did  not  know  his  ways. 

"  Yes,  and  life  has  been  hard  for  him,  poor  fel- 
low!" 

"  But  perhaps  that  is  why  he  makes  it  gentler  for 
every  one  else.  I  think  in  the  old  Round  Table 
days  there  might  have  been  people  like  him,  but 
not  now." 

Hester  had  lost  her  terror  in  the  pleasant  task 
of  praising  her  hero,  Edward. 

"  You  are  a  wise  little  woman."  It  was  enough 
to  talk  about  Edward  to  satisfy  Mrs.  Morton,  and 
the  girl  had  been  artlessly  clever  in  her  speech. 


332  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Then  Mr.  Wilmington  woke  up.  "  He  is  n't 
worth  much  compared  to  Arthur,"  he  said ;  "  rather 
a  sentimental  young  man." 

Mrs.  Morton  laughed.  "  Oh,"  she  said,  gayly, 
"  that  hook  was  not  too  well  baited !  Come  and 
dine  with  us  to-morrow." 

"  On  one  condition,"  he  returned,  looking,  as 
Mrs.  Westerley  afterwards  declared,  as  wicked  as 
the  scapegoat ;  "  and  that  is  that  I  may  have  Miss 
Hester." 

Mrs.  Morton  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  "  Cer- 
tainly," she  assented,  in  her  most  quiet  tone,  "  we 
shall  expect  you,  Miss  Gray." 

"  But  Hester  dines  with  me,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Wes- 
terley, promptly. 

"  Then  you  will  both  come,"  continued  Mrs.  Mor- 
ton, with  frosty  politeness.  "  At  seven,  dear." 

"  You  are  very  good,  Mrs.  Morton,"  Hester  re- 
plied, "but  I  think  I  promised  to  dine  here  with 
Mr.  Edward  and  Mr.  Arthur  Morton." 

"  What,  all  the  family !  You  will  have  to  endure 
me  quite  alone,  Mr.  Wilmington ; "  and  then  Mrs. 
Morton  felt  that  somehow  the  battle  was  not  for 
her  to-day,  but  she  had,  nevertheless,  a  distinct 
sense  of  approval  of  the  calmness  of  her  young  ad- 
versary under  fire. 

In  a  little  while  Mr.  Wilmington  went  away  with 
Hester,  and  made  himself  pleasant,  as  he  knew  full 
well  how  to  do,  and  the  two  elder  women  were  left 
alone. 

"  I  wonder,  Alice,  that  you  allow  that  woman 


IN   WAR   TIME.  333 

Mrs.  Grace  to  speak  to  you.     Edward  calls  her  the 
'  news  fiend.'    Is  n't  that  delightfully  descriptive  ?  " 

"  My  dear,  I  never  cut  people  now.  It  is  an 
endless  annoyance.  You  have  to  be  so  on  your 
guard  not  to  speak  to  them.  I  don't  know  how  it 
may  be  with  you,  but  time  does  betray  one  so.  I 
want  to  scalp  some  woman  to-day,  and  in  a  year  I 
only  care  just  to  pinch  her  a  little,  and  in  another 
year  I  am  indifferent  about  her  altogether.  I  think 
I  like  that  big  angel  Ned's  views.  He  told  me  that 
he  quarreled  outright  with  a  man  once  in  Texas, 
and  that  it  was  like  having  measles ;  it  prevented 
him  from  ever  quarreling  with  anybody  else." 

"  Oh,  there  is  no  one  like  that  boy.  But  he  can 
be  angry,  I  assure  you." 

"  Of  course  he  can.  A  man  is  worth  little  who 
cannot." 

"  I  have  always  lived  with  men  who  were  capa- 
ble enough  in  that  line.  And  do  you,  know,  dear, 
that  is  one  of  the  things  I  never  did  like  about  Dr. 
Wendell.  He  seems  to  be  quite  unable  to  get  into 
a  good  honest  rage  at  anything." 
V  "  Perhaps  he  controls  himself." 

"  No,  the  man  is  too  gentle.  He  has,  I  think,  a 
—  well,  a  sleek  disposition." 

"  Oh,  what  an  unpleasant  phrase,  Helen !  "  cried 
her  friend,  coloring  slightly.  "  I  think  you  are  un- 
fair, and  this  matter  of  Arty's  has  made  you  irrita- 
ble, too." 

"  Take  care,"  said  Mrs.  Morton,  playfully  shak- 
ing her  finger  at  her  friend,  —  "take  care!  It 


334  IN  WAR  TIME. 

is  n't  only  Mrs.  Grace  who  talks  about  you.  I  have 
always  wanted  you  to  marry,  —  and  it  is  very  good 
of  me,  too,  dear,  —  but  not  Dr.  Wendell,  Alice. 
At  least  marry  a  gentleman." 

"I  think  he  is  one,"  retorted  Alice,  angry,  and 
governing  herself  with  difficulty. 

"A  kind  of  one  ;  not  just  precisely  our  kind." 

"  And  pray,  Helen,  what  are  our  kind  like  ?  " 

"  You  know,  Alice,  quite  as  well  as  I  do." 

"  I  don't  think  I  do,  or  if  I  do  I  am  tired  of  our 
kind.  When  I  mean  to  marry  Dr.  Wendell  or  any 
one,  I  will  let  you  know." 

Then  Mrs.  Morton  understood  that  she  had  said 
enough,  and  made  up  her  mind  that  her  friend 
would  marry  Wendell. 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  that  you  are  not  committed  in 
any  way." 

"Of  that  you  may  rest  assured,"  said  Alice. 
This  was  hardly  true,  but  she  believed  that  she  had 
a  fair  right  to  so  construe  her  present  relations. 
More  and  more  had  she  felt  to-day  that  she  was 
keeping  him  and  herself  in  a  false  position.  She 
was  sore,  too,  from  the  whips  of  these  idle  tongues. 
Now  she  would  end  it  all,  and  do  the  thing  and 
abide  by  it,  and  so  put  herself  where  no  one  could 
dare  to  talk  thus  to  her  of  the  man  she  loved. 

"But,  Helen,"  she  added,  "what  was  it  you 
wanted  to  say  to  me  ?  Of  course  it  was  n't  about 
this.  I  think  we  may  drop  Dr.  Wendell." 

"No,  it  was  quite  another  matter;"  and  then 
she  told  Alice  the  story  of  Miss  Ann's  visit.  "  And 


IN  WAR  TIME.  335 

now  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?  What  with  these 
Wendells,  and  this  absurd  love  affair  of  Arthur's, 
and  this  serio-comic  performance  of  that  Yankee 
old  maid,  I  am  what  my  old  nurse  used  to  describe 
as  '  about  done  out.'  " 

Alice  winced  a  little,  but,  keeping  her  repeated 
hurts  to  herself,  she  answered,  "I  don't  wonder. 
But  is  it  so  bad,  after  all  ?  Let  us  look  at  it  calmly. 
I  warned  you  about  Hester,  and  you  did  nothing." 

"  I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Morton,  gravely. 

"  And  of  course  you  will  have  to  yield." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  groaned  Mrs.  Morton,  who  was 
what  Mrs.  Bullock  called  "  low  in  her  mind." 

"And  except  as  to  money,  what  can  you  say? 
The  girl  is  pretty,  well-mannered,  intelligent,  sweet- 
tempered.  What  more  on  earth  can  you  want  ?  " 

Mrs.  Morton  was  too  shrewd  to  talk  to  Alice  as 
she  had  done  to  Edward.  "  Every  one  is  against 
me,"  she  said  so  plaintively  that  Alice  laughed 
aloud. 

"  And  every  one  ought  to  be  against  you." 

"  Edward  wants  to  give  him  money  to  join  Col- 
onel Fox  in  his  iron  works,"  said  Mrs.  Morton  sor- 
rowfully. 

"  Not  really  ?     How  hard  on  you,  Helen  !  " 

"  You  are  really  too  outrageous,"  rejoined  the 
injured  lady  ;  "  but  it  is  always  so  !  I  never  have 
my  own  way." 

Alice  smiled.  "  If  Hester  had  come  to  you,  and 
said,  '  Mr.  Morton  wants  to  marry  me,  and  I  think 
I  ought  not  to  let  him  without  your  consent,'  you 


336  IN  WAR  TIME. 

would  have  kissed  her,  and  said,  '  Now  that  's  the 
kind  of  a  girl  for  a  daughter  !  '  Would  n't  you, 
Helen?" 

Mrs.  Morton  smiled  despite  herself.  "I  dare 
say  I  should." 

"  You  always  do  come  right  in  the  end.  But  I 
overheard  you  say  to  Mr.  Wilmington  that  Ned 
was  not  so  well.  Is  it  this  tragedy  of  Miss 
Ann's  ?  " 

"  Partly  that,  I  think ;  and  I  am  afraid  I  have 
worried  him  about  Arty." 

"  The  more  reason  for  doing  so  no  longer." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  Alice.  I  will  talk  to 
Arty." 

"  Do,  dear.  And  about  the  other  matter.  Miss 
Wendell,  you  say,  has  promised  to  be  silent,  and 
Edward  has  written,  and  asked  an  answer  by  ca- 
ble?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Then,"  continued  Alice,  "  you  can  do  no  more. 
Tell  Arty  you  must  wait  to  hear  from  his  father, 
but  of  course  not  a  word  about  the  other  trouble. 
In  twelve  days  —  let  me  see,  that  will  be  about 
May  14th.  We  shall  hear  then,  and  it  will  be  all 
cleared  up,  even  to  Ann's  satisfaction,  and  you  will 
welcome  this  dear  child  to  your  heart.  I  wish  she 
were  my  daughter." 

"  I  will  think  of  it,  dear.  How  good  and  patient 
you  are,  AJice !  I  don't  wonder  every  one  loves 
you."  And  so  the  two  women  cried  a  little,  and 
kissed  one  another,  and  Mrs.  Morton  went  away 


72V  WAR  TIME.  337 

feeling  somehow  that  her  burden  was  lighter,  while 
Alice  went  up-stairs  happy  in  her  victory,  and  sing- 
ing like  a  bird  for  pure  joy. 

By  and  by  she  sat  down  at  a  table  near  to  the 
window,  and,  after  a  moment's  thought,  wrote  thus 
to  Wendell :  — 

"  I  wondered  why  you  had  not  been  here  to-day, 
but  now  I  know  it  is  because  you  have  cases  of 
sinall-pox,  Come  and  see  me  when  you  feel  it  to 
be  safe.  Tell  Hester  to  be  patient  and  to  wait.  I 
have  had  a  satisfactory  talk  with  Mrs.  Morton.  As 
soon  as  they  hear  from  Colonel  Morton  everything 
will  come  right.  I  have  delayed  answering  you 
in  form,  partly  from  an  indecision  which  has  been 
as  painful  to  me  as  to  you,  as  you  must  know  by 
this  time.  But  now  I  mean  to  end  it,  and  if  I  ask 
you  after  this  to  wait  a  few  days  you  will  not  mind 
it,  I  am  sure.  I  have  had  a  fancy  —  and  you  ought 
to  be  glad  to  think  that  I  am  yet  young  enough  to 
have  caprices  —  that  I  would  not  say,  frankly,  Yes, 
until  we  have  heard  from  Colonel  Morton  about 
this  other  matter.  Now  I  am  very  truly  Alice 
Westerley;  but  after  that  I  shall  be  very  truly 
yours.  A.  W." 

That  she  was  even  yet  quite  free  from  indecis- 
ion cannot  be  said  ;  but  this  was  all  that  was  left  of 
it,  and  she  felt  happier  than  she  had  done  for  many 
days. 

Decision  is  a  pleasant  inn  after  a  troubled  jour- 
ney that  has  led  us  hither  and  thither.  To  the 
wholesome-minded  guest  it  is  apt  to  open  wide  the 


838  IN  WAR  TIME. 

kindliest  hospitalities  of  hope,  where  we  are  served 
by  cheerful  fancies  and  feed  on  what  we  wilL 

Having  thus  ended  this  matter,  Alice  looked  out 
over  the  shrubbery  and  across  the  hills  and  fields  ; 
and  everywhere  the  little  riddles  of  last  autumn's 
thousand  seeming  deaths  were  being  answered  in 
the  swarming  life  of  spring.  Birds  went  busily 
from  bough  to  bough,  with  wooings  in  which  there 
was  little  indecision.  The  air  was  dotted  with  in- 
sect life  forever  on  the  wing,  and  over  all  a  bus- 
tling western  wind  drove  a  great  flock  of  clouds 
across  the  sky. 

A  warm,  inquisitive  sunshine  stirred  all  creation 
with  throbs  of  reawakened  life,  and  in  the  woman's 
heart  also  was  springtime,  and  mysterious  longings, 
and  growth  of  sweet  feminine  hopes,  and  welcomes 
for  the  tender  happiness  which  promised  her  a 
larger  and  yet  a  truer  life  in  the  days  to  come. 
Such  sense  of  exaltation  to  higher  levels  of  exist- 
ence and  its  better  purposes  comes  instinctively  to 
those  who  nobly  love. 

As  she  sat  and  thought,  "Wendell's  face  came  be- 
fore her,  with  its  prevalent  undertone  of  sadness 
and  its  air  of  scholarly  refinement.  "  Not  a  gentle- 
man !  "  she  murmured,  smiling.  "  Ah,  we  shall 
see!" 


XXI. 

WENDELL  received  Alice  Westerley's  letter  with 
delight  which  a  year  before  would  have  been  with- 
out alloy.  He  loved  her  very  deeply,  and  in  the 
presence  of  a  passion  so  profound,  the  first  and  the 
only  one  of  his  life,  his  self -appreciation  faded  into 
the  most  utter  humility,  and  he  wondered  that  he 
had  ever  dared  to  hope  ;  while  at  times  there  arose 
in  his  mind  an  overwhelming  feeling  of  triumph 
when  he  thought  of  what  those  who  had  criticised 
him  so  freely  would  say  when  this  became  known. 
To  be  justified  before  men  socially  and  in  all  other 
ways  by  the  preference  of  such  a  woman  was  suffi- 
cient return  for  anything  the  world  of  lesser  beings 
might  have  said  or  done. 

It  was  hard  to  have  any  drawback,  hard  indeed  ; 
and  he  cursed  his  folly  as  he  thought  of  being  no 
longer  an  upright  man,  clear  of  shame,  worthy  of  a 
pure  woman's  love.  It  cannot  be  said  that  this 
sense  of  degradation  was  altogether  the  growth  of 
honest  hatred  of  his  weakness  and  sin,  nor  yet 
even  the  healthy  reaction  from  single  acts  of  wrong 
and  a  return  to  the  normal  despotism  of  moral  hab- 
its which  were  good  and  cleanly.  It  was  rather  the 
fact  that  he  had  become  accustomed  to  test  himself 
and  his  ways,  and  even  his  little  social  habits,  by 


340  TN  WAR  TIME. 

the  exquisite  refinement  of  purity  in  Alice,  which 
seemed  to  envelop  him  with  a  charmed  atmosphere 
as  his  love  for  her  deepened  in  intensity.  It  was 
more  by  his  ideal  of  her  conscience  than  his  own 
standards  that  he  tried  himself,  and  it  was  there- 
fore not  enough  that  he  still  felt  secure  against  ex- 
posure ;  for  there  was  for  him  an  ever  present  idea 
that,  come  what  might,  he  brought  her  to  a  life 
which,  in  her  eyes,  would  seem  hopelessly  defiled. 
There  were  hours  in  these  days  of  waiting  when  he 
felt  inclined  to  go  away  and  to  write  to  her  that  he 
was  a  man  unworthy  of  her  love  and  trust.  But 
then  the  impossibility  of  inflicting  on  himself  this 
anguish  rose  with  her  smiling  face  before  him,  and 
by  an  easy  effort  he  put  away  the  impulse.  That 
Ann  had  begun  to  guess  the  secret  of  his  love  he 
well  knew,  and  feeling  that  he  ought  now  to  tell 
her  he  would  surely  have  done  so  had  there  not 
been  constantly  with  him  this  association  of  his 
love  with  the  sense  of  shame.  He  felt,  however, 
that  he  must  clear  himself  of  the  risk  of  exposure, 
and  then  he  could  speak  with  less  alloy  of  discom- 
fort in  regard  to  whatever  of  terrible  the  near  fu- 
ture threatened.  He  would  wait. 

His  distress  was  increased,  however,  by  the  fact 
that  four  days  after  Alice  left,  a  new  and  unpleas- 
ant actor  came  suddenly  upon  the  stage.  Wendell 
V  had  heard  nothing  more  from  Henry  Gray,  but  as 
he  was  daily  expecting  to  do  so  he  had  been  worry- 
ing himself  sick  in  his  effort  to  replace  the  money 
he  had  taken.  At  one  time  he  would  have  gone  to 


IN  WAR   TIME.  341 

Edward  for  aid,  but  already  much  money  had  been 
almost  forced  upon  him  by  that  generous  friend ; 
and  the  doctor's  dislike  to  ask  anew  was  made 
greater  by  Edward's  present  condition,  which  was 
one  of  growing  weakness,  with  rare  intervals  of  en- 
tire freedom  from  pain.  Here  was  certainly  a  still 
possible  resource,  but  it  must  be  a  last  one.  In  his 
trouble  he  would  have  turned  even  to  Mrs.  Morton, 
but  he  was  well  aware  that  he  was  out  of  favor  at 
present ;  and  he  had  not  forgotten  that  Mrs.  Mor- 
ton had  once  or  twice,  out  of  her  affluence  of  ready 
advice,  given  him  some  quite  friendly  counsel  as  to 
his  need  to  be  rather  more  economical.  Where 
else  to  go  he  knew  not,  and  all  the  refinement  of 
the  man's  emotional  nature  protested  against  any 
recourse  to  the  purse  and  kindness  of  the  woman 
he  loved.  That  for  him  was  impossible.  Mean- 
while, poor  Ann  worried  herself  over  his  haggard 
face  and  questioned  him  in  vain.  Her  conclusion 
was  that  his  present  inclination  towards  Alice  Wes- 
terley  had  not  been  pleasantly  returned,  and  with 
her  regrets  there  was  mingled  in  Ann's  mind  some 
trace  of  another  feeling,  which  she  made  haste  to 
put  down  with  all  the  decision  of  her  loving  nature. 
Her  feeling  that  he  was  troubled,  and  also  her  re- 
membrance of  the  ridicule  he  had  cast  upon  her 
grave  theory  of  the  relation  of  Colonel  Morton  to 
the  rebel  Gray,  combined  now  to  indispose  her  to 
discuss  with  her  brother  Hester's  engagement,  or 
the  awful  difficulty  which  she  conceived  of  as  for- 
bidding it.  Once  or  twice  when  the  new  alliance 


342  IN  WAR  TIME. 

had  been  referred  to  before  him,  he  had  either  left 
the  room,  or  in  some  way  shown  a  displeasure 
which  Ann  could  not  comprehend,  and  which  at 
times  inclined  her  to  suspect  that  possibly  he,  too, 
disapproved  of  it. 

Wendell  was  on  his  way  home  from  the  city,  af- 
ter a  vain  effort  to  sell  his  stock  and  to  raise  money 
in  impossible  ways,  when  he  saw  a  gentleman  stand- 
ing on  the  stone  steps  of  his  house.  The  stranger 
was  a  man  about  fifty-five,  and  was  dressed  in  a 
closely  buttoned  black  morning  coat,  neat  check 
pantaloons,  and  a  well-brushed  hat  that  was  Picca- 
dilly all  over,  and  wore  a  rose  in  his  button-hole. 
The  figure  was  such  as  one  sees  in  Bond  Street  by 
hundreds  of  a  morning,  except  that  the  feet  were 
small,  the  boots  delicate  and  thin  as  a  girl's,  and 
that  their  owner  carried  a  large,  shining  cane  with 
a  huge  gold  head.  Wendell,  who  noticed  faces  as 
doctors  learn  to  do,  observed  only  that  the  clean- 
shaven, sallow  features  were  rather  strong  and 
gaunt,  and  that  the  stranger  wore  his  straight  dark 
hair  so  long  as  to  excite  attention.  The  incongrui- 
ties of  dress  of  course  escaped  Wendell's  observa- 
tion. The  moment  the  stranger  addressed  him  the 
doctor  knew  who  he  was. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  the  gentleman,  seeing  Wen- 
dell  take  out  his  pass-key,  "  are  you  not  Dr.  Wen- 
dell?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  Dr.  Wendell." 

"  My  name  is  Henry  Gray.  I  should  apologize 
because  I  have  not  written,  but  now  I  am  here  in 


IN  WAR  TIME.  343 

person,  which  saves  explanations.  Permit  me  sir, 
before  I  enter  your  house,  to  thank  you  for  your 
long  and  great  kindness  to  my  young  relative." 

He  spoke  with  a  little  old-fashioned  sense  of  say- 
ing a  fine  thing,  and  there  were  unexpected  inflec- 
tions in  his  speech.  Also  his  final  r's  were  softened 
into  broad  a's,  but  the  voice  was  pleasant  and  the 
tones  were  refined. 

"  You  will  think  us  well  rewarded  when  you  see 
Hester.  Come  in.  You  are  very  welcome." 

Henry  Gray  followed  his  host  into  the  large,  low- 
ceiled  room,  and  sat  down  while  Wendell  went  in 
search  of  Ann  and  Hester. 

Ann  was,  as  she  said,  awfully  flurried,  and  to 
Hester's  amusement  insisted  on  her  changing  her 
gown.  But  Ann  was  a  wise  woman  in  her  way ; 
she  knew  the  value  of  first  impressions,  and  was  not 
without  a  just  pride  in  the  maiden  to  whom  she 
had  given  a  home.  As  she  hastily  arranged  the 
girl's  dress,  the  thought  went  through  Ann's  mind 
that  if  she  proved  to  be  right  about  the  grave  mat- 
ter recently  in  dispute,  here  assuredly  was  an  ally 
who  would  see  things  as  they  should  be  seen.  She 
was  therefore  glad  to  welcome  the  new  arrival. 

Houses  and  rooms,  Mr.  Gray  took  small  note  of. 
He  had  lived  in  camps  and  ranches,  and  slept  on 
the  plains,  or  housed  himself  in  the  tepe  of  the  In- 
dian ;  but  to  him,  as  to  most  of  those  who  have 
dwelt  much  in  wild  border  lands,  there  had  come  a 
habit  of  scanning  faces  closely ;  for  in  such  semi- 
barbarous  existences  the  features  lose  the  diplomatic 


344  IN  WAR  TIME. 

masks  of  guarded  social  life,  and  to  look  sharply 
at  a  stranger  is  a  needed  safeguard  for  those  who 
mean  to  illustrate  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  The 
Cape  Cod  spinster,  in  her  simple  serge  dress,  with 
no  gay  colors  save  those  in  her  clear  eyes  and  ruddy 
cheeks,  seemed  to  him  a  curious  personage.  He 
began  to  wonder  what  kind  of  a  lady  she  must  have 
made  of  his  young  kinswoman.  Certainly  the 
Carolina  gentleman,  with  his  personal  belief  in  the 
Grays,  his  patriotism  limited  by  state  boundaries, 
and  his  after  years  of  turbulent  border  life,  was  a 
not  less  new  and  amazing  type  to  Ann  Wendell, 
who  was  now  looking  with  a  double  interest  at  one 
who  might  be  Hester's  future  guardian. 

Ann  came  in,  with  her  usual  quick  movement. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  —  very  glad,"  she  said 
with  unusual  warmth  ;  "  and  Hester  will  be  down 
in  a  minute." 

Mr.  Gray  took  Ann's  proffered  hand,  and  bend- 
ing over  it  spoke  with  a  sort  of  stately  courtesy, 
the  secret  of  which  is  almost  lost  to  the  present 
generation. 

"  I  have  mentioned  —  but  with  too  much  brevity 

—  to  your  brother  how  greatly  I  feel  your  consider, 
ate  kindness  to  my   cousin.     Allow  me  to  thank 
you  also.     We  have  been  fortunate,  Miss  Wendell, 

—  fortunate." 

"  It  has  pleased  God  in  his  goodness  to  give  us 
a  pleasant  duty,"  replied  Ann,  "  and  I  trust  that 
our  stewardship  may  be  found  in  his  eyes  to  have 
been  wise." 


IN  WAR   TIME.  345 

"  By  all  means  —  yes  —  quite  so.  Your  obser- 
vations appear  to  me  to  be  grounded  on  justice," 
said  Gray  ;  "  I  have  no  doubt  that  I  shall  find  my 
fair  relative  all  that  I  might  desire." 

"  I  trust  so,"  returned  Ann.  "  Hester  is  a  good 
girl,  and  as  a  rule  acceptable  to  her  elders,  and,  as 
far  as  I  have  been  able  to  teach  her,  a  good  house- 
wife. But  here  she  is,  to  speak  for  herself  !  " 

"  Upon  my  soul,"  exclaimed  her  cousin,  going 
forward  with  both  hands  extended,  "  a  Champney 
from  head  to  feet !  " 

Then  he  kissed  her  quite  formally  on  the  fore- 
head, as  she  said,  — 

"  You  have  given  us  a  great  surprise,  sir.  But 
when  did  you  arrive  ?  I  think  you  are  very,  very 
kind  to  come  to  see  me." 

"  Bless  me,  my  dear,"  he  returned,  "  I  think  if 
I  had  known  what  I  was  to  see,  I  should  have  come 
before !  It  is  astonishing  how  you  favor  the 
Champneys.  You  don't  remember  Elinor  Champ- 
ney, I  suppose  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Hester,  embarrassed  by  his  undis- 
guised admiration,  "  I  cannot  say  I  do.  Was  she 
very  plain,  sir  ?  "  she  added,  slyly. 

"  Plain !  A  woman,  my  dear,  men  fought  about. 
There  was  poor  Tom  Manley  —  but,  dear  me,  that 
was  ages  ago  !  How  old  are  you,  Hester  ?  " 

"  Almost  eighteen." 

"Well,  well,  what  awful  mile-stones  you  chil- 
dren are ! " 

Then  Wendell  rose.     "We  will  leave  you  to 


346  IN   WAR   TIME. 

your  cousin,  Hester,"  he  remarked  ;  "  you  must 
have  a  world  of  things  to  say,"  and  so  went  out 
with  Ann. 

"  And  you  and  I,  Hester,"  said  Mr.  Gray,  "  are 
all  that  are  left  of  the  good  old  stock." 

"  And  have  I  really  no  relation  but  you  ?  "  re- 
turned Hester,  with  an  odd  sense  of  being  socially 
shipwrecked. 

"  Not  one,  iny  dear  child,  not  one !  The  last,  I 
reckon,  was  Jack  Champney.  You  know  he  was 
your  fourth  cousin,  once  removed,  —  no,  I  should 
say  twice  removed,  —  and  he  was  killed  by  those 
damned  Yankees.  Excuse  me,  but  the  two  words 
come  together  so  naturally  !  Shot  at  Shiloh.  He 
commanded  a  division,  and  I  have  heard  it  said 
that  if  he  had  not  been  killed  we  should  have  ex- 
terminated Grant's  army." 

"  Poor  fellow !  "  murmured  Hester,  endeavoring 
to  get  up  a  little  affectionate  grief  for  the  cousin 
once,  twice,  but  now  permanently,  removed. 

"  There  was  Archie  Gray,"  continued  her  cousin, 
reflectively.  "  I  forgot  him  ;  but  most  generally 
people  did  forget  Archie.  He  moved  up  into  North 
Carolina,  and  set  all  his  slaves  free,  and  just  went 
down  in  the  world.  Was  n't  much  above  a  cracker 
at  last." 

Hester  somehow  felt  a  larger  interest  in  this  de- 
graded scion  of  her  race. 

"  Cracker  ?  "  she  queried. 

"  Cracker,  my  dear,  is  a  sort  of  no-account  white 
man ;  mostly  North  Carolina  folk." 


IN  WAR  TIME.  347 

"  Was  he  any  nearer  to  me,  Mr.  Gray  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Cousin  Henry,"  he  replied,  "  or  cousin  Harry, 
if  you  please,  child.  Stick  to  the  good  old  Carolina 
way  of  standing  by  your  own  people.  But,  your 
pardon,  you  asked  "  — 

"  Yes,  I  asked  if  he  were  any  nearer  relation ; 
and  is  he  dead,  too  ?  It  seems  so  strange  to  me, 
cousin,  to  be  just  all  alone  in  the  world.  I  knew 
I  must  be,  but  to  be  told  so  brings  it  home  to  me." 

"  There  is  one  man  your  devoted  servant,"  re- 
turned Gray,  with  a  courtier-like  tone  in  his  voice, 
as  he  surveyed  with  appreciative  eye  the  cleanly 
cut  nose  and  proudly  carried  head  above  the  sloped 
shoulders. 

Hester  felt  like  making  one  of  Mrs.  Morton's 
room-occupying  courtesies,  but  she  only  said,  with 
a  mental  note  for  Arty's  amusement,  — 

"  I  never  can  forget  your  kindness.  How  could 
I,  indeed  ?  "  And  then,  as  it  seemed  right  to  par- 
take of  his  interest  in  their  family,  she  added, 
"  This  Alexander  Gray,  you  were  saying  "  — 

"  Archie,  my  dear,  —  Archibald  ;  a  family  name. 
Your  great-grandfather  was  Archibald,  and  this 
was  his  second  son  Archibald's  third  son ;  all  the 
rest  dead,  you  know." 

"  And  he  is  dead,  too  ?  "  said  Hester,  still  curi- 
ous. 

"  Yes,  he  is  dead  ;  "  and  then  he  continued  with 
some  reluctance,  "  A  poor  devil.  Married  a  Yan- 
kee school-mistress.  When  the  war  broke  out  he 


348  IN   WAR   TIME. 

entered  the  Union  army.  I  did  hear  he  raised  a 
nigger  regiment,  and  was  in  tHat  business  at  Fort 
Pillow." 

"  And  was  he  killed  ?  "  asked  Hester. 

"  Well,  he  has  n't  been  heard  of  since.  I  under- 
stood that  he  was  killed.  A  —  a  —  I  beg  pardon, 
a  good  riddance.  Had  too  much  of  that  Compton 
blood.  You  know  those  Edisto  Comptons?  No- 
account  folks.  Don't  you  ever  marry  a  Yankee, 
cousin  Hester." 

Hester  colored.  "  You  forget,  cousin,"  she  said, 
"  that  I  might  have  starved  if  it  had  not  been  for 
my  Yankee  friends.  In  fact,  I  fear  you  will  think 
me  only  a  lukewarm  Southerner.  I  have  tried  to 
be  as  quiet  as  I  could  about  the  war.  I  do  not  yet 
understand  why  it  came,  or  why,  as  they  say,  it  had 
to  come ;  but  it  has  cost  me  my  father,  and  given 
me  the  love  and  help  of  my  friends  here,  and  yours 
too,  and  —  and  —  everything,  you  know,"  she 
added,  disconnectedly,  remembering  with  a  full 
heart  that  her  misfortunes  had  not  been  without 
pleasant  palliatives. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  understand,"  he  returned  ;  "  excel- 
lent people,  I  should  say.  I  shall  not  forget  them. 
But  I  suppose  the  name  went  for  something." 

"  My  dear  cousin !  "  exclaimed  Hester,  much 
amused,  "  nobody  here  knows  anything  about  us, 
except  Mrs.  Morton." 

"Oh!"  said  he,  "I  don't  consider  that  can  be 
quite  correct.  We  were  here  very  often  in  old 
times.  However,  time  makes  sad  changes.  And 


IN  WAR  TIME.  349 

Mr.  Morton,  —  is  he  at  home?  A  very  elegant 
gentleman,  my  dear;  for  a  Northern  man,  quite 
remarkably  so." 

"  He  is  still  in  Europe,"  replied  Hester. 

"  And  his  family  ?  I  must  do  myself  the  honor 
of  a  call." 

"  They  too  have  been  good  friends  of  mine,"  said 
Hester. 

"  Then  the  more  reason  for  me  to  thank  them," 
returned  Mr.  Gray.  "I  go  to  Baltimore  to-morrow, 
but  next  week  I  shall  return  here,  and  then  I  must 
go  South.  A  sad  visit,  Hester.  But  it  is  folly  to 
lament,  and  you  must  try,  my  dear,  to  look  forward 
with  hope.  When  next  this  country  has  a  foreign 
war,  we  shall  try  it  over,  and  I  hope  with  better 
fortune.  Just  now  the  foot  of  the  North  is  on  us, 
and  they  have  another  Poland  to  govern." 

This  was  all  rather  perplexing  to  Hester,  who 
had  divided  allegiances,  and  with  whom  Arthur's 
opinions  had  considerable  force. 

"It  is  sad  enough.  I  trust  we  shall  have  no 
more  wars.  Arthur  —  Mr.  Arthur  Morton  says 
that  this  way  of  manufacturing  history  is  disagree- 
able." 

"  Arthur  ?  "  he  said,  suspiciously.  "  Who  is  Ar- 
thur? Oh,  Arthur  Morton,  is  it?  I  think  I  saw 
him  in  England.  Quite  an  unpleasant  young  per- 
son. Not  so  well  bred  as  his  father.  Left  the 
table  because  I  said  Mr.  Adams  was  a  — a  — 
Yankee ;  you  can  supply  the  adjective.  I  perceive 
you  will  keep  me  in  order !  " 


350  IN  WAR  TIME. 

This  was  rather  too  much  for  Hester.  "  I  meant 
to  write  to  you,  but  it  was  not  quite  settled  ;  and  I 
think  I  ought  to  say  that  I  have  promised  to  marry 
Mr.  Arthur  Morton,  —  Captain  Morton  he  is  now." 

Mr.  Gray  stood  up,  with  a  look  of  amazement  on 
his  face.  "  And  you  a  woman  of  our  crushed  and 
bleeding  Carolina !  You  have  so  far  forgotten 
your  home,  and  your  blood,  and  your  dead  father  ? 
You,  the  last  of  the  Grays !  Hester,  Hester !  And 
a  Yankee  officer,  too!  I  thought  we  were  low 
enough  before !  " 

The  girl  rose  also,  and  stood  grasping  a  chair- 
back.  The  quick  blood  of  a  masterful  race  was  in 
her  face,  and  the  blue  iris,  dilating,  darkened 
around  the  central  depth  it  bounded.  "  I  owe  you 
much,"  she  said  hastily,  —  "  more  than  I  ever  can 
repay ;  but  you  would  respect  me  little  if  I  were  to 
let  you,  or  any  one,  say  such  things  as  this  to  me. 
No  obligation  can  make  it  right  for  me  to  hear  such 
words  about  the  man  I  love.  I  think  if  you  had 
reflected  a  moment  you  would  not  have  said  them, 
—  never !  " 

Gray  cared  little  for  the  wrath  of  men.  He  was 
always,  as  he  said  calmly,  "  personally  responsible, 
sir."  But  the  anger  of  a  woman  was,  as  it  is  to  all 
chivalrous  men,  difficult  to  deal  with;  and  then 
Hester  was  so  splendidly  handsome  in  her  wrath. 
It  cooled  his  own  rage  a  little ;  but  he  was  an  ob- 
stinate man,  used  to  having  his  way. 

"Oh,  child,"  he  said,  assuming  the  quiet  tone 
of  an  elder  person,  "you  have  not  yet  seen  your 


IN  WAR  TIME.  351 

ruined  home ;  you  have  not  yet  seen  where  Sher- 
man's bandits  cut  down  your  old  oaks,  and  made 
targets  of  your  ancestors'  pictures !  Oh,  Hester, 
our  desolated  South  —  wait,  wait  till  you  see  it !  " 

Somehow  this  business  of  her  ancestors'  portraits, 
as  to  which  Gray  felt  a  fierce  resentment,  struck 
Hester  as  a  small  part  of  so  large  a  calamity  as  the 
war. 

"  I  may  have  lost  a  home,"  she  replied,  "  but  I 
have  also  found  one ;  and  war  —  war  is  all  wicked, 
and  there  is  no  good  in  it.  There  may  be  cause 
for  you,  a  man,  a  Southern  man,  to  feel  bitterly ; 
but  you  cannot  expect  that,  situated  as  I  have  been, 
befriended  as  I  have  been,  I  should  share  your  feel- 
ings." 

"  Then  you  should  be  ashamed  to  confess  it ! " 
he  cried,  with  momentary  anger,  yet  still  wonder- 
ing as  he  saw  how  her  features  responded  to  the 
thoughts  she  uttered,  while  her  strong,  erect  form 
carried  unstirred  the  changing  passion  of  her  face. 
It  was  like  a  fair  young  tree,  whose  leaves  tremble, 
shaken  by  the  wrath  of  stormy  winds,  while  the 
trunk  scarce  sways,  held  firmly  by  its  anchoring 
roots. 

"  Ashamed !  "  she  repeated,  with  a  smile  ;  "  and 
you  talk  to  me  about  the  pictures  of  my  dead  an- 
cestors !  I  dare  say  I  shall  be  proud  enough  of  my 
people  when  I  come  to  know  more  about  them ;  but 
there  is  something  nearer  to  me  now,  and  you  have 
dared  to  ask  me  to  be  ashamed  of  that ! "  Her 
heart  swelled  beneath  the  wild  unrest  of  her  bosom 


352  /2V  WAR  TIME. 

as  she  thought  of  Edward  and  of  the  life  and  love 
Arthur  had  laid  at  the  feet  of  an  orphan  girl,  a 
stranger  in  a  strange  and  hostile  land.  Cry  she 
would  not. 

"  I  have  no  personal  objection  to  Mr.  Morton," 
said  Gray,  a  little  embarrassed. 

"Nor  have  I,"  returned  Hester,  scornfully. 

"  But  how  you,"  he  said,  "  a  woman  of  the  South, 
can  bend  "  — 

"  Stop  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  repeat  what  I  said. 
You  have  no  right  to  use  your  relationship  and  my 
obligations  to  enable  you  to  insult  me.  And  I  will 
not  bear  it.  I  will  not  bear  it  from  you,  or  from 
any  one ! " 

"  Good  gracious  !  "  said  Gray,  sitting  down  sud- 
denly. "  There  is  no  doubt  of  what  your  breed  is ! 
I  think  Mr.  Morton  will  have  his  hands  full." 

"Very  likely;  but  at  least  he  knows  how  to  re- 
spect brave  men  who  could  risk  their  lives  for  their 
beliefs." 

This  was  a  little  unpleasant  to  Gray,  who  had 
been  abroad  on  Confederate  business  during  the 
war,  and  who  had  a  slight  sense  of  having  fallen 
below  his  own  standard,  because  he  had  not  fol- 
lowed his  flag  into  battle.  He  looked  keenly  at 
Hester,  and  became  convinced  at  once  that  she 
had  meant  no  personal  slight,  which  was  true. 

"Won't  you  sit  down  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No.     I  prefer  to  stand,"  she  replied. 

"  But  you  will  oblige  me  by  sitting  down."  She 
seated  herself. 


IN   WAR   TIME.  353 

"  Cousin  Hester,"  he  said,  "  I  have  hurt  you. 
But  you  must  not  forget  how  natural  it  is  for  me  to 
feel  as  I  do." 

"Of  course,"  answered  Hester,  who  was  easily 
softened,  "  I  know  that ;  but  there  are  things 
dearer  than  home  or  country,  and  if  I  have  spoken 
too  strongly,  you  should  remember  that  I  am  here 
a  waif,  an  orphan,  a  dependent,  and  that  —  that  — 
oh,  it  is  not  just  like  any  every-day  matter ;  it  is 
not  just  like  any  girl's  love  affair.  I  "  —  She  could 
not  go  on.  There  rose  up  within  her  consciousness 
a  sense  of  what  her  lover  was  to  her ;  how  consider- 
ate he  had  been,  how  tender ;  how  in  this  warmth 
of  love  he  had  known  how  to  evolve  and  ripen  all 
that  was  best  in  her.  The  thought  of  it  brought 
the  color  to  her  cheeks,  and  the  anger  went  out 
of  her  eyes,  over  which  the  lids  drooped  in  tender 
concealment.  It  was  a  moment  when  more  than 
ever  before  the  strength  of  her  love  became  clear 
to  her.  As  white  light  turned  by  the  prism's  plane 
breaks  into  unimagined  color,  the  simpleness  of 
maidenhood  flashed  into  the  passion  and  hopes  and 
multiple  emotionalities  of  one  whom  Love  has  bap- 
tized  a  woman. 

She  could  not  trust  herself  in  speech.  Henry 
Gray  observed  her  keenly.  He  was  beginning  to 
see  the  power  and  tenacity  of  Hester's  nature. 

"  And  do  you  really  love  this  young  fellow  so 
much?  " 

Hester  opened  her  wide  eyes  in  pure  reproach 
for  answer. 


354  IN   WAR   TIME. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  after  a  moment.  Just  then  a 
laughing  face  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  Oh,  Arthur  —  Mr.  Morton  !  "  exclaimed  Hes- 
ter, hastily  setting  her  moral  house  in  order.  "  My 
cousin,  Mr.  Henry  Gray ;  Mr.  Arthur  Morton, 
cousin." 

The  two  men  shook  hands,  and  began  to  talk 
about  indifferent  matters,  carefully  avoiding  the 
topics  which  were  still  very  bitter  in  men's  mouths. 
Arthur  had  come  to  see  Hester,  and  after  a  few 
moments  of  this  strained  conversation  felt  that  Mr. 
Gray  ought  to  go ;  but  such  was  not  the  latter's 
intention,  and  he  sat  calmly  chatting,  resolved  to 
have  yet  further  speech  alone  with  Hester.  Then 
he  tried  the  little  social  stratagem  of  silence ;  but 
this  failed,  with  so  joyous  and  ready  a  tongue  as 
Arthur's,  till  at  last  Mr.  Gray  rose,  and  saying  to 
Hester,  "  I  will  see  you  next  week ;  we  have  still 
much  to  talk  about,"  bowed  over  her  hand,  said  a 
cool  good-morning  to  Arthur,  and  left  the  room. 

Then  Hester  said,  "  I  have  told  him,  Arty." 

"Oh,  have  you?  What  a  plucky  little  woman! 
Wait  a  moment,  I  ought  to  say  something  to  him 
myself ; "  and  leaving  her  in  spite  of  her  protest, 
as  she  somewhat  dreaded  what  might  come  of  the 
interview,  he  overtook  Mr.  Gray. 

"  Let  me  show  you  the  way  to  the  station." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  returned  Gray. 

"  Miss  Gray  has  told  you,"  said  Arthur,  "  of  oui 
engagement.  I  owe  you  an  appearance  of  need  for 
apology,  as  you  are  her  sole  relative;  but  my 


7^-  WAR  TIME.  355 

mother,  who  does  not  disapprove,  is  unwilling  that 
we  should  be  publicly  engaged  until  my  father  is 
heard  from.  Of  course  he  cannot  be  anything  but 
pleased,  and  I  had  meant  to  write  to  you  as  soon 
as  we  received  his  answer." 

Gray  failed  for  a  moment  to  reply. 

"  I  hope  I  make  myself  clear,"  added  Arthur. 

"  Perfectly,"  said  Gray.  "  I  perceive,  sir,  you 
have  correct  ideas.  I  perceive  it,  sir,  with  satisfac- 
tion." 

"And  I  may  presume,"  continued  Arty,  who, 
save  for  Hester's  position  and  feelings,  was  blandly 
indifferent  as  to  what  Mr.  Gray  thought,  —  "I 
may  presume,"  and  he  put  on  his  finest  manner, 
"  that  I  have  your  approval  ?  " 

"  To  consider  the  matter  with  our  Southern 
frankness,"  returned  Gray,  "  I  do  not  like  it.  I 
do  not  desire  Hester  to  marry  at  all  as  yet ;  and 
you  will  pardon  me  if  I  say  that  it  could  not  natu- 
rally be  agreeable  to  me  that  she  should  marry  a 
Northern  man,  or  an  officer  of  your  army." 

Arthur's  inward  reply  was  other  than  his  speech ; 
what  he  said  was,  "  I  dare  say  not ;  "  and  then  he 
added,  with  a  keen  sense  of  the  fun  of  it,  "  My 
father  may  have  like  objections.  It  did  not  occur 
to  me  before." 

Gray  saw  well  enough  that  he  was  being  mildly 
chaffed.  He  did  not  relish  it,  and  was  unwise 
enough  to  reply. 

"  If  your  father's  son,  Mr.  Morton,  is  as  set  in 
his  ways  as  my  cousin's  daughter,  the  form  of  ask- 
ing might  very  well  be  dispensed  with." 


356  IN   WAR  TIME. 

"  There  are  some  things,"  Arthur  answered1 
"  which  we  do  as  mere  ceremonies ;  but  on  my 
honor,  if  I  had  supposed  I  should  be  talked  to  af- 
ter this  fashion,  neither  your  years  nor  Hester  her- 
self would  have  made  me  go  even  so  far  as  the 
ceremony  of  asking." 

Halting  suddenly,  Gray  turned  on  him.  "  Mr. 
Morton,  you  are  a  young  man,  and  I  am  well  on  in 
life.  We  can't  quarrel  like  men,  and  when  that 
decent  course  is  impossible  there  is  no  use  in  scold- 
ing one  another.  A  word  more.  You  have  won, 
and  we  have  lost.  Make  some  allowance  for  sore 
bones,  sir!  There  is  my  hand, —  you  shall  hear 
no  more  of  this  matter  from  me  ;  and  by  George, 
sir,  I  am  glad  you  are  a  soldier.  I  said  something 
foolish  about  that,  I  believe,  but  I  did  n't  mean  it." 

Arthur  shook  his  hand  warmly. 

"I  dare  say  I  have  need  to  apologize,  myself," 
he  declared.  "  Thank  you.  But  here  is  your  train. 
Hester  will  be  pleased,  I  am  sure." 

Mr.  Gray  took  off  his  hat,  while  Arthur  touched 
his  in  soldier  fashion,  and  then,  seized  by  the  con- 
tagion of  Gray's  ceremoniousness,  made  a  salute  as 
bountiful  as  that  of  the  Southern  gentleman,  and 
went  his  way  back  to  Hester,  to  condole  with  her 
over  the  pictures  of  her  ancestors. 

The  interview  was  probably  satisfactory,  as  Ar- 
thur was  able  to  tell  her  that  his  mother  had  been 
very  nice  to  him,  and  hoped  it  would  all  be  well 
when  the  colonel  was  heard  from,  and  also  that 
Ned  had  sent  his  love.  It  was  now  Thursday,  and 


IN  WAR  TIME.  357 

by  the  next  Thursday  they  would  be  sure  to  hear, 
because  his  father  was  to  telegraph. 

Meanwhile  Ann  Wendell  was  greatly  dissatisfied 
with  herself.  The  effect  left  upon  her  mind  by  the 
dying  delirium  of  Hester's  father  had  been  pro- 
found, and  Hester's  engagement  was  to  her  as  if  a 
ghost  had  risen  from  the  grave  to  chide  her  failure 
to  perform  a  manifest  duty,  which  she  knew  she 
had  put  aside,  awaiting  the  hour  when  Hester 
should  be  old  enough  to  hear  so  terrible  a  tale.  It 
is  impossible  to  estimate  the  force  with  which  such 
grim  events  impress  themselves  on  people  of  simple 
lives  and  limited  range  of  experience.  They  are 
recalled  as  men  recall  their  first  sensation  of  the 
terrors  of  an  earthquake.  It  was  true  that  Dr. 
Lagrange  and  Ezra  had  smiled  at  it  all ;  but  they 
were  both  friends  of  the  Mortons,  and  Ann  knew 
but  too  well  Ezra's  tendency  to  put  aside  unpleas- 
ant ideas,  and  that  of  course  he  would  dislike  to 
offend  Mrs.  Westerley.  All  this  seemed  clear; 
but  to  whom  should  she  go  in  her  deep  and  serious 
distress  of  mind  ?  She  had  rashly  promised  not  to 
speak  to  Hester,  —  not,  at  least,  until  she  had 
heard  what  Colonel  Morton  would  say  ;  and  if  he 
too  were  again  to  pronounce  what  seemed  to  her  so 
grave  as  but  the  dream  of  a  dying  man,  what  then  ? 
She  had  said  it  would  satisfy  her  ;  but  would  it,  or 
should  it  ?  Was  not  Hester  the  only  competent 
judge?  Had  not  she  a  right  to  hear  this  story? 
In  vain  the  troubled  and  straightforward  woman 
tried  to  see  it  as  Edward  saw  it.  Even  if  Hester's 


358  IN   WAR  TIME. 

father  had  been,  through  pure  accident,  shot  by  a 
certain  man,  could  Hester  rightfully  marry  that 
man's  son  ?  In  her  worry  Ann  became  singularly 
perplexed  as  to  what  was  wrong  and  what  right, 
grieving  vainly  over  her  promise  of  secrecy,  until 
suddenly  it  came  to  her  that  this  promise  was  lim- 
ited to  Hester.  There  was  Mr.  Gray,  of  whom 
already  she  had  thought  as  an  adviser,  —  of  all  per- 
sons the  one  on  whose  shoulders  she  could  put  her 
care,  and  rest  content  that  it  was  where  it  should 
be.  He  should  promise  not  to  speak  of  it  to  Hester 
until  they  heard  from  Mr.  Morton.  The  more  she 
thought  this  over  the  clearer  it  seemed ;  for  now, 
in  Lagrange's  silence,  —  and  she  had  twice  written 
to  him,  —  it  appeared  to  be  her  only  resource,  and 
something  she  felt  sure  she  must  do. 

Hester  had  told  her  that  Mr.  Gray  would  call 
the  next  Friday  afternoon,  on  his  way  to  Newport, 
where  he  had  landed  property,  which  had  been 
transferred  to  a  Northern  friend  for  security  dur- 
ing the  war.  Meantime,  he  was  to  be  moving 
about,  and  letters  were  uncertain ;  so  that,  much 
annoyed  at  the  delay,  Ann  finally  resolved  to  await 
the  chance  of  a  personal  interview,  and,  having 
settled  this,  sought  to  put  the  whole  matter  aside 
for  the  time. 


XXII. 

THURSDAY  was  the  earliest  date  at  which  Ed- 
ward, who  was  now  constantly  in  bed,  could  look 
for  a  reply  by  cable,  and  he  was  becoming  anxious, 
despite  his  own  convictions.  On  Thursday  after- 
noon he  sent  for  Dr.  Wendell.  The  doctor  found 
him  looking  badly,  and  sat  by  his  bedside  a  long 
while  ;  liking  to  talk  with  him,  and  having  it  over 
and  over  again  on  his  lips  to  mention  that  he  him- 
self was  in  debt,  and  needed  large  help.  It  seemed 
hard  to  do  just  then,  and  he  decided  that  he  would 
wait.  Mr.  Gray  had  spoken  no  word,  and  given 
him  no  chance  to  say  anything  of  their  business 
matters,  and  so  he  had  yet  a  little  time. 

"  Does  my  disease,"  asked  Edward,  "  make  you 
fear  any  sudden  result  ?  I  mean,  am  I  within  the 
risk  of  dying  suddenly  ?  I  have  long  meant  to  ask 
you." 

"  No.  I  do  not  think  you  are.  The  condition 
you  are  now  in  is  common  in  these  troubles,  and 
will  pass  away.  You  may  even  be  better  than  be- 
fore." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,  for  mother's  sake.  How 
strange  it  is  that  as  life  gets  less  and  less  worth 
having  we  should  cling  to  it  the  more  !  I  suppose 
this  fierce  clutch  at  what  little  is  left  of  existence  is 


360  IN   WAR   TIME. 

really  a  feature  of  some  diseases  more  than  of  oth- 
ers." 

"  Yes,  it  is  so,  I  think,"  said  Wendell. 

"  Well,  for  what  has  given  to  my  life  of  late 
such  sweetness  as  it  has,  I  have  to  thank  you,  doc- 
tor. You  see  even  now  I  can  read."  His  bed  was 
littered  with  books  and  scientific  journals.  "  Do 
you  remember  giving  me  this  little  Marcus  Aure- 
lius?  See  how  I  have  marked  it!  I  sometimes 
wonder  if  in  another  world  I  shall  be  able  to  thank 
that  grand  heathen.  Between  pains,  this  morning, 
I  have  been  worrying  through  Heine's  Philosophy 
and  Religion.  It 's  hard  reading,  I  can  tell  you, 
and  I  have  done  nothing  but  look  in  the  dictionary 
at  every  second  line.  It  seems  to  me  that  Heine 
must  have  suffered  a  good  deal  as  I  do,  and  that 
has  given  me  a  more  personal  interest  in  what  he 
wrote.  But  it  is  painful  to  see  how  his  opinions 
shifted.  Could  n't  you  take  it  home  and  make  out 
these  three  passages  I  have  marked  ?  I  can't  clear 
them  up." 

"  I  will  try.  I  think  I  see  your  difficulty,"  an- 
swered Wendell,  who  read  German  well.  "  But  I 
must  go.  When  will  you  hear  from  the  colonel  ?  " 

He  was  unaware  of  all  that  this  telegram  was  to 
answer,  as  they  had  agreed  that  it  was  best  to  say 
nothing  about  the  matter,  and  Alice,  who  very 
likely  would  have  discussed  it  with  him,  was  still 
away. 

"We  must  hear  to-morrow,"  replied  Edward. 
"  And  by  the  way,"  he  added,  smiling,  for  he  had 


/AT   WAR   TIME.  361 

for  some  time  back  suspected  what  was  Alice's  rela- 
tion to  Wendell,  — "  by  the  way,  you  will  find  our 
friend  Mrs.  Westerley  here  to-morrow  afternoon. 
Don't  fail  to  see  me,  please." 

Then  Wendell  rose. 

"  One  moment,"  said  the  sick  man.  "  I  have 
several  times  meant  to  ask  you  not  to  worry  about 
our  little  debts,  and  to  say  also  that  when  I  am 
better  I  would  like  to  talk  to  you  about  your  money 
matters.  I  have  a  notion,  from  what  Miss  Ann  let 
fall  last  week,  that  perhaps  you  need  a  little  lift. 
It  is  a  mere  guess,  but  if  I  am  right  I  trust  that 
you  will  say  so." 

"  It  is  only  too  true,"  assented  Wendell,  a  great 
hope  leaping  up  within  him.  "I  have  been  very 
unfortunate  in  several  ways." 

"  That  is  enough  for  me  to  know.  Let  us  talk 
it  all  over  to-morrow ;  but,  by  the  way,  give  me 
some  idea  of  what  you  need ;  how  much,  I  mean, 
and  don't  hesitate  about  it,  please." 

"  I  scarcely  dare  to  say  how  much.  People  don't 
pay  my  bills,  and  I  —  well,  in  fact,  our  little  invest- 
ments have  all  gone  wrong,  and  "  — 

"  Oh,  but  how  much  will  set  you  fairly  afoot,  my 
dear  doctor  ?  " 
V     "  If  I  could  borrow  five  thousand  dollars  "  — 

"  If  you  could  ?  You  shall.  Why  not  have  told 
me  before  ?  Cannot  you  see  that  it  is  a  great  hap- 
piness to  feel  that  I  can  help  one  who  has  so  amply 
helped  me  ?  I  shall  be  paying  a  debt,  not  making 
one.  No  mere  money  could  pay  what  is  due  from 


362  IN  WAR  TIME. 

me  to  you ;  just  remember  that,  doctor,  when  we 
come  to  foot  up  our  relative  claims." 

"  1  do  not  know  how  to  thank  you.  You  little 
know  what  it  is  you  are  doing  for  me.  It  is  an  in- 
estimable obligation.  I  have  been  so  wretched 
about  my  debts,  —  and  —  altogether  "  — 

"  Well,  let  us  drop  it  now.  You  will  hurt  me  if 
you  make  so  much  of  it.  What  is  money  after  all  ? 
Now,  if  it  could  buy  me  escape  from  pain  for  a 
month  —  or  hire  new  legs  "  — 

"  Even  if  all  you  say  be  true,  I  too  have  been 
helped  in  turn,  and  I  can  never  forget  that  what- 
ever has  been  my  fortune  as  a  doctor  in  this  place, 
you  and  yours  have  always  stood  by  me." 

"  And  with  reason,"  exclaimed  Edward.  "  We 
all  of  us  owe  you  much,  but  my  own  little  debts  to 
you,  doctor,  are  debts  of  the  spirit,  not  to  be 
counted ;  as  Arty  says,  like  the  gold  in  the  cloud 
banks  of  sunset." 

"  I  don't  think  I  deserve  much  praise  for  it,"  re- 
turned Wendell,  smiling ;  "  it  was  certainly  for  the 
most  part  unconscious  benevolence,  if  that  can  be 
called  benevolence  at  all." 

"  I  rather  fancy,"  said  Ned,  who  was  not  to  be 
talked  out  of  his  sense  of  gratitude,  —  "I  rather 
fancy  that  what  you  call  '  unconscious  benevolence ' 
is  merely  the  outcome  of  habits  of  doing  kind  and 
fitting  things.  I  can  see  that  it  must  be  a  part  of 
a  physician's  life  to  think  of  how  he  can  teach  the 
sick  —  I  mean  the  crippled  sick  —  to  fill  up  the 
gaps  which  disease  has  made  in  their  means  of  hap- 


IN   WAR  TIME.  868 

"Yes  ;  it  maybe  so,"  remarked  Wendell  thought- 
fully. He  felt  that  perhaps  he  had  not  considered 
enough  this  side  of  his  duties,  except  when,  as  in 
Ned's  case,  the  patient  had  interested  him.  He 
was  impressed  now,  as  Edward  talked  on,  with  the 
manner  in  which  by  degrees  the  man  of  action  had 
become  the  man  of  thought,  as  the  shadows  of  pain 
and  bodily  disability  had  gathered  about  him  ;  and 
the  idea  passed  through  Wendell's  mind  that  it  was 
like  the  thoughtf ulness  which  comes  at  dusk  of  day, 
when  the  body  is  wearied,  and  the  light  which 
tempts  to  active  ways  is  spent.  "  Yes,  it  may  be 
so,"  he  repeated.  "  I  am  afraid  we  do  not  always 
keep  ourselves  enough  alive  to  the  chances  of  such 
helpfulness." 

"  That  may  very  well  be ;  but  the  calls  made 
upon  a  man  by  your  work  are  so  various  that  I  can 
well  imagine  how  hard  it  must  be  to  give  them  all 
their  just  share  of  attention." 

"  You  are  right,"  returned  Wendell,  all  of  whose 
better  nature  was  getting  food  for  reflection  out  of 
i/  the  young  man's  sick-bed  meditations.  "  A  doc- 
tor's life  has  in  it,  however,  a  good  deal  to  harm 
his  moral  growth,  and  needs  watching.  It  is  diffi- 
cult not  to  become  despotic  from  mere  habit  of  con- 
trol, and  still  harder  to  be  tender  and  yet  decided, 
and  to  keep  good  tempered  amidst  the  unreasona- 
bleness of  patients  and  their  friends." 
\/  He  was  half  consciously  becoming  morally  auto- 
biographic. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Edward,  "  a  doctor  ought  to 


864  IN  WAR  TIME. 

be  all  of  a  man  with  the  best  of  a  woman.  I  think 
/  I  should  like  to  be  a  physician.  The  human  nature 
he  sees  in  its  nakedness  must  be  interesting,  and  a 
man  who  walks  among  the  tragedies  of  life  must 
have  noble  chances  to  help  and  guide  and  set  folks 
right.  You  know,  don't  you,  the  Eastern  proverb, 
'Where  the  earthquake  has  been  the  best  grain 
grows '  ?  " 

"  No,  I  never  heard  it.  It 's  good,  though,  is  n't 
it  ?  But  you  have  cheated  me  into  overstaying  my 
time,  and  I  must  go/' 

"  Well,  good-by.  I  think  I  feel  better  for  our 
chat.  Don't  forget  the  medicine  you  said  you  would 
send,  —  I  hope  it  will  quiet  my  unruly  heart ;  and 
don't  come  till  the  afternoon.  You  have  always 
more  time  to  talk  then." 

Ann  Wendell's  nature  made  her  deal  temper- 
ately with  the  lesser  problems  of  moral  life,  but 
sense  of  wrong  or  injustice,  or  the  presence  of  a 
distinctly  neglected  duty,  disturbed  her  painfully. 
When  once  she  was  sure  of  what  ought  to  be  done, 
—  and  when  sure,  she  was  as  a  rule  apt  to  be  very 
sure,  —  she  became  uneasy  until  she  had  seized  on 
that  duty,  and  justified  herself  by  shaking  it  into 
a  state  of  incapacity  to  excite  her  further,  much  as 
a  quiet  terrier  will  suddenly  awaken  to  the  presence 
of  a  rat,  and  with  instinctive  abruptness  of  energy 
destroy  its  power  to  disturb  him.  Such  outbreaks 
of  activity  antagonistic  to  the  habits  of  a  life  baffle 
the  student  of  human  nature  because  of  their  ex- 


IN  WAR  TIME.  365 

ceptional  rarity.  We  see  this  illustrated  danger- 
ously in  animal  life  by  the  sudden  stroke  of  the 
sluggish  serpent,  and,  as  concerns  man,  in  the  occa- 
sional rashness  of  the  timid,  the  queer  lapses  of  the 
methodical,  or  the  strange  self-committals  of  the 
naturally  cautious  and  diplomatic. 

Ann  had  reached  such  a  crisis,  and  nothing  but 
competent  action  would  satisfy  her.  She  would 
certainly  have  her  talk  with  Mr.  Gray,  and  at 
once ;  but  there  came  to  her  now  the  suspicion  that 
she  might  feel  easier,  and  better  able  to  face  Mrs. 
Morton's  anger,  if  she  were  to  remind  that  lady 
beforehand  that  the  pledge  of  secrecy  applied  only 
to  Hester,  and  to  tell  her  that  she  thought  it  an 
urgent  duty  to  put  the  responsibility  of  an  ultimate 
decision  upon  Hester's  nearest  relative.  Ann  would 
have  been  wiser  had  she  spoken  rather  than  writ- 
ten ;  but  she  dreaded  the  possibility  of  being  talked 
out  of  the  course  she  had  laid  down  for  herself, 
and,  to  leave  no  chance  of  a  reply,  wrote  and  dis- 
patched her  note  about  four  o'clock,  and  sending 
Hester  to  the  city  on  an  errand,  told  her  that  she 
herself  desired  to  talk  to  Mr.  Gray  alone,  and 
would  detain  him  until  Hester's  return.  Then, 
feeling  that  she  had  thus  cleared  her  path,  she  sat 
down  and  awaited  Mr.  Gray's  arrival,  which  she 
counted  upon,  as  he  had  telegraphed  Hester  in  the 
morning  that  he  would  be  with  her  about  five  or 
six  o'clock. 

Meanwhile,  Wendell  went  out,  telling  his  sister 
that  he  might  return  late.  He  was  doing  some 


366  IN  WAR   TIME. 

work  for  a  doctor  near  by,  who,  being  absent,  had 
left  him  his  carriage.  He  visited  a  patient  on  the 
way,  and  then  drove  rapidly  over  to  the  Mortons', 
full  of  hope  and  relief,  and  thinking  as  he  went 
along  of  Alice  Westerley.  Edward's  words  had 
raised  him  into  one  of  the  moods  of  elation  which 
had  been  rare  or  absent  of  late,  and  he  drove 
through  the  lanes  making  thankful  and  honest  res- 
olutions for  the  happy  future  which  opened  before 
him.  In  his  pleasant  abstraction  he  passed  Ann's 
messenger,  a  little  lad  who  did  their  errands,  and 
presently,  leaving  his  carriage  at  the  stable,  walked 
up  to  the  house.  On  the  porch  he  saw  Alice  Wes- 
terley alone. 

"Sit  down  here  a  moment,"  she  said.  "Mrs. 
Morton  is  with  Ned,  and  Arty  is  writing  letters.  I 
cannot  tell  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you.  You  look 
better." 

"Oh,  do  I?  Gladness  is  a  good  physician. 
Alice,  my  Alice,  you  will  not  keep  me  longer  in 
this  horrible  suspense  ?  I  have  sometimes  thought, 
this  past  week,  that  you  could  not  care  for  me  as  I 
care  for  you.  Why  should  you  delay  so  long,  and 
why  should  I  still  have  to  wait  until  it  pleases 
Colonel  Morton  to  write  a  telegram?  What  on 
earth  have  we  to  do  with  him  ?  " 

"  Some  day,  soon,  I  will  tell  you  why,"  she  re- 
plied. "I  have  been  unhappy  about  Hester.  If 
you  had  been  with  me  I  should  have  had  to  tell 
you,  but  now  — Do  you  know  what  that  is  ?  "  and, 
laughing,  she  held  up  a  telegram  envelope. 


IN  WAR  TIME.  367 

"Oh,  Alice!"  he  exclaimed.  "And  is  it  all 
right  about  Hester  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  returned,  "  it  is  all  right.  The  colone] 
has  said  it  is  to  be  as  Helen  wishes.  She  has  the 
telegram.  But  you  are  very  nice  to  think  first  of 
Hester." 

"  And  now,  Alice  "  — 

"  Well  ?  "  she  said,  demurely. 

"Your  hesitations  are  over." 

"  They  are  over  for  life." 

"  My  God !  "  he  whispered.  He  felt  like  a  slave 
who  has  found  a  jewel  in  his  path,  and  trembled 
with  the  sense  of  a  possession  beyond  even  the 
dreams  of  love's  sweet  avarice.  She  realized  at 
once,  with  her  quick  sympathies,  the  man's  intensity 
of  happiness,  and  looked  up  at  him  shyly,  with 
watchful  joy. 

"  I  am  going  to  walk  home,"  she  said.  "  Helen 
thinks  I  have  gone,  but  I  waited  for  you.  I  will 
go  slowly,  so  that  you  can  overtake  me  easily. 
Don't  be  long." 

He  looked  at  her,  and  then  glanced  about  him. 
She  turned  quickly  to  go,  but  he  caught  her  as  she 
moved,  and  kissed  her  passionately. 

"  Oh,  Ezra  !  "  she  cried,  in  alarm.  "  How  could 
you ! " 

"  I  could  not  help  it,"  he  answered.  "  Ah,  now 
I  know  you  are  mine !  You  will  pardon  me." 

"  If,  —  if,"  she  said,  smiling  and  red,  "  you  will 
never,  never  do  it  again?  " 

"  Never,"  he  replied,  and  went  into  the  house. 


368  IN  WAR  TIME. 

While  this  little  matter  was  being  thus  arranged 
on  the  porch,  Mrs.  Morton  was  seated  by  her  son's 
bedside.  The  telegram  for  which  Edward  had 
eagerly  waited  had  come,  and  for  the  second  time 
he  was  reading  it  aloud,  when  Arthur  suddenly 
walked  into  his  chamber.  "  What 's  that,  Ned  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  The  answer  from  father  ?  " 

Mrs.  Morton  had  meant  that  he  should  know 
only  the  general  tenor  of  the  dispatch  until  Ann 
had  been  seen,  and  the  whole  matter  deprived  of 
its  mischievous  possibilities.  But  fate  had  over- 
ruled her,  and  her  son  had  heard  enough  to  make 
it  necessary  that  he  should  hear  the  whole.  There 
was  no  help  for  it  now,  and  she  quickly  cast  about 
her  for  aid  as  she  gave  him  the  paper. 

"That's  droll,"  said  Arthur,  reading  it  aloud. 
"  What  does  my  father  mean  ?  He  says,  '  It  is  ab- 
surd. Use  your  own  judgment.  See  letter.'  What 
does  he  mean  by  '  absurd '  and  all  that  ?  " 

"  It  refers,"  returned  Mrs.  Morton,  "  to  another 
question,  which  does  not  altogether  concern  you. 
The  latter  part  does.  Are  you  not  satisfied,  my 
son?" 

Edward  looked  up.  He  hated  indirectness,  but 
he  was  silent. 

"Oh,  thank  you,  mother,"  said  Arthur,  rising. 
"  And  you  will  love  her,  too,  mother,  and  you  will 
feel  satisfied,  won't  you?" 

"I  always  did  love  her,  but"  — 

"  Oh,  don't  spoil  it,  mother,"  begged  Ned. 

"My  son's  wife  will  be  my  daughter,"  she  an- 


72V  WAR  TIME.  369 

swered,  and  then  she  kissed  Arthur.  "I  will  go 
over  to  see  Hester  to-night,  and  now  I  must  send 
this  to  Ann  Wendell."  So  she  wrote  a  little  note 
of  caution  to  Ann,  and  gave  it,  with  the  inclosed 
telegram,  to  Arthur,  that  he  might  send  his  happy 
news  to  Hester  Gray.  Then  Mrs.  Morton  rose 
from  the  bedside. 

"  Don't  go  yet,  mother,"  said  Edward.  "  I  want 
to  say  something.  I  have  learned  lately  that  my 
friend,  Dr.  Wendell,  is  in  debt.  I  don't  think  he 
has  succeeded  as  he  ought  to  have  done,  and  the 
little  money  he  and  his  sister  had  seems  to  have 
been  badly  invested,  and  so  far  as  I  can  make  it 
out  has  been  lost." 

Mrs.  Morton  interrupted  him :  "  I  never  did 
think  he  had  any  sense  about  business  matters,  and 
I  am  equally  sure  that  he  is  one  of  those  people 
who  must  buy  what  they  chance  to  want  at  the  mo- 
ment. Your  uncle  Richard  was  much  that  kind  of 
person.  I  paid  his  debts  twice.  Did  Dr.  Wendell 
ask  you  to  help  him  ?  " 

"  No,  he  did  not.  I  have  lent  him  a  little  money 
from  time  to  time.  Perhaps  we,  who  have  never 
had  to  think  about  money,  do  not  realize  the  temp- 
tations of  people  like  Wendell,  who  have  refined 
wants  and  scanty  means.  I  have  offered  to  aid 
him  further,  but  to  do  so  effectually  will,  I  fancy, 
demand  at  least  five  thousand  dollars.  I  could  not 
arrange  this,  lying  helpless  here  in  bed,  and  that  is 
why  I  want  to  trouble  you.  In  a  week  or  two,  or  a 
little  later,  I  shall  have  all  I  want;  but  I  spent 


370  IN  WAR  TIME. 

so  much  on  the  Sanitary  and  the  soldiers'  orphan 
business  that  really  I  shall  lack  at  least  a  thousand 
of  what  he  will  need." 

"  But  don't  you  think,  my  son  "  — 

"  Think  !  Mother,"  he  said,  wearily,  "  I  am  past 
thinking.  I  can  only  feel.  And  besides,  I  am  a 
sick  man,  and  I  do  not  want  to  wait  to  do  this 
thing.  I  wish  to  do  it  now,  at  once." 

Mrs.  Morton's  impulse  was  always  to  act  in  ac- 
cordance with  Edward's  wishes,  but  the  habit  of 
advising  was  also  strong. 

"  I  meant,"  she  observed,  "  to  ask  you  to  think, 
dear  Ned,  if  this  is  not  a  rather  inconsiderate  use 
of  a  large  sum  of  money.  I  really  cannot  see  what 
claim  Dr.  Wendell  has  on  you,  and  I  do  certainly 
think  there  is  a  strange  want  of  propriety,  to  say 
the  least,  in  using  his  position  as  a  doctor  to  get 
money  out  of  a  man  so  much  his  junior." 

"  Please  not  to  say  that.  You  hurt  me  when  you 
talk  in  that  way  of  Wendell.  You  forget,  mother, 
that  it  was  I  who  worried  out  of  him  the  secret  of 
his  debts,  and  that  it  was  I  who  offered  him  help, 
—  not  he  who  asked  it.  I  don't  feel,  mother,  that 
you  are  ever  quite  just  to  the  doctor." 

"  I  have  tried  to  be  just,  Edward.  I  never  have 
thoroughly  liked  him,  but  nothing  ever  goes  quite 
straight,  and  the  next  thing  will  be  that  Alice 
Westerley  will  marry  him." 

"  I  wish  she  would,"  said  Edward,  "  for  you 
ivould  adopt  him,  then." 

"  How  much  have  you  lent  him,  Edward  ?  " 


IN  WAR  TIME.  371 

"  About  six  or  eight  hundred  dollars.  I  never 
kept  any  account  of  it." 

"  I  suppose  not,  Ned ;  and  now  you  want  to  lend 
him  five  thousand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother  ;  but  let  us  drop  this  as  a  business 
matter.  My  love  of  books  and  botany  and  the 
microscope,  and  in  fact  all  that  has  made  life  en- 
durable of  late,  has  been  as  it  were  a  gift  from  this 
man.  That  the  debt  is  uncommercial  is  the  more 
reason  why  you  and  I  should  recognize  it." 

Had  it  been  any  one  but  Edward,  Mrs.  Morton 
would  have  smiled,  amused  at  the  debit  and  credit 
account  thus  set  before  her;  but  this  large-eyed, 
pale,  and  wasting  youth,  and  the  shrunken,  bony 
hand,  so  white  and  feeble,  now  resting  in  hers,  held 
her,  so  that  she  seemed  to  become  a  part  of  the  sick 
frame,  and  to  feel  with  its  gentle  heart,  until  her 
worldly  criticisms  faded,  with  some  realizing  sense 
of  the  slight  shame  he  felt  that  she  should  hesitate. 

"  You  always  have  your  way  with  me,  Ned,"  she 
said,  softly. 

"  And  you  like  it,"  he  replied,  smiling.  "  But 
kiss  me,  mother,  and  then  go  away,  please.  I  am 
in  a  good  deal  of  pain,  and  I  shall  fight  it  better 
alone." 

"  And  I  have  made  you  talk  so  much,  darling." 

"  That  has  its  pleasant  side,  too,  mother.  Ah, 
there  is  a  good  deal  of  sweetness  in  life  yet !  " 

"  If  only  I  could  give  you  more  !  " 

"  But  you  are  its  biggest  sugar-bowl,  as  it  is,"  he 
returned,  laughing,  that  he  might  send  her  away 


372  IN  WAR  TIME. 

feeling,  as  he  knew  she  would,  that  if  after  all  he 
was  able  to  jest  with  her  he  could  not  be  so  very 
ill. 

As  he  saw  her  leave  the  room,  and  heard  her 
through  the  half-open  door,  sit  down  at  her  writing- 
table,  he  set  his  teeth,  and  with  clenched  hands 
wrestled  with  the  agony  of  gathering  pain. 

"  My  God  !  "  he  muttered,  "  what  good  can  there 
/  be  in  pain  like  this  ?  One  cannot  think  for  it !  If 
pain  does  not  make  a  man  think,  what  use  can  it 
be  ?  Ah,  that  is  a  let-up." 

Humor,  in  some  natures  apparently  the  quickest 
at  call  among  the  lighter  sprites  who  inhabit  the 
caverns  of  the  mind,  which  no  illness  destroys,  and 
which  is  peculiarly  apt  to  rise  on  the  sudden  sub- 
sidence of  pain,  was  strong  in  this  young  man. 

"  Ah,  if  I  only  had  hold  of  the  grandfather,  or 
whoever  he  was,  that  left  me  this  little  legacy  of 
his  laziness  or  his  wickedness  !  Arty  says  '  every 
J  one  is  in  the  higher  sense  his  own  grandfather.'  T 
wish  I  was  mine.  I  'd  feel  more  responsible.  He 
says  that's  Emerson.  I  don't  believe  it.  By 
George,  I  must  have  that  anodyne  !  " 

There  were  two  vials,  much  alike,  on  the  little 
table  by  his  bed ;  one  the  medicine  sent  by  the  doc- 
tor the  day  before.  Still  resolute  not  to  let  his 
mother  know  of  his  increasing  anguish,  he  tried  to 
read  the  directions  on  the  labels,  but  failing  to  see 
them  distinctly,  uncorked  one  of  the  bottles,  think- 
ing that  the  familiar  odor  of  the  anodyne,  to  which 
he  was  accustomed,  might  suffice  to  guide  him.  He 


IN  WAR  TIME.  378 

found,  however,  that  it  was  not  what  he  sought. 
As  he  set  it  down  his  hand  shook  so  much  that  he 
upset  the  vial,  and  spilt  a  large  part  of  its  contents 
between  the  bed  and  the  table.  He  recorked  it, 
murmuring,  "  I  am  no  better  than  a  child,"  and 
with  a  moan  of  pain  gave  up  the  task.  To  his 
relief  he  heard  Arthur  coming  up-stairs,  laughing 
and  talking  with  Wendell,  —  two  eager,  joyous 
men.  They  lingered  on  the  top  landing  for  what 
seemed  to  the  sufferer  an  age  ;  but  he  waited  with 
a  stern  patience  which  they  who  have  seen  or  have 
themselves  felt  the  grip  of  such  suffering  can  alone 
appreciate. 

At  last  they  came  in. 

"  How  are  you  to-day  ?  "  asked  Wendell,  gently. 

"  In  torment,"  said  Edward,  under  his  breath. 
"  But  take  care,  or  mother  may  hear." 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Morton  entered  the  room, 
excited  and  angry. 

"  Let  me  speak  to  you  a  moment,  doctor,"  she 
exclaimed. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Edward,  who  had  rarely 
seen  his  quiet  mother  so  manifestly  disturbed. 

"  Matter  enough,"  she  said.  "  Ann  Wendell 
writes  me,  as  she  says,  from  a  sense  of  duty,  to  re- 
mind me  that  she  has  never  pledged  herself  to  con- 
ceal that  ridiculous  story  from  any  one  but  Hester, 
and  that  this  afternoon  she  means  to  tell  it  all  to 
Mr.  Henry  Gray." 

Wendell  and  Arthur  looked  amazed. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  inquired  Wendell. 


374  72V   WAR  TIME. 

"  Your  sister,"  replied  Mrs.  Morton,  too  vexed 
for  reflection,  "  has  got  a  craze  about  that  stupid 
nonsense  of  poor  Hester's  father  having  been  killed 
by  my  husband,  and  thinks  Hester  ought  to  know 
it." 

"  Ann  !  "  cried  Wendell,  —  "  Ann,  of  all  people ! 
Why,  Mrs.  Morton,  she  and  I  talked  this  over,  a 
year  ago  at  least.  I  never  dreamed  of  its  having 
any  practical  hold  on  her.  Is  n't  there  some  mis- 
take?" 

"  No  ;  here  is  her  note.  It  is  an  old  story  and  a 
foolish  one,"  said  Mrs.  Morton,  "  but  it  will  make 
mischief." 

"  Let  her  tell  it,"  said  Edward  with  his  usual 
good  sense.  "  It  is  time  we  had  done  with  it." 

"  And  that  was  the  meaning  of  the  telegram,  was 
it  ?  "  observed  Arthur.  "  I  heard  my  father  once 
mention  it  in  France  as  a  singular  incident.  But 
great  heavens,  to  tell  Hester !  and  to  tell  her  now ! " 

"  And  just  as  this  telegram  has  come,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Morton,  "  to  want  to  talk  it  over  with  Mr. 
Gray,  whom  we  barely  know,  and  who  does  not 
want  Hester  to  marry !  What  inconceivable  folly ! 
Just  think  how  he  may  see  fit  to  put  it  to  Hester !  " 

"They  both  ought  to  know  it  some  time,"  said 
Edward ;  "  but  it  should  be  told  quietly,  and  not 
by  one  who  believes  it." 

"  But  it  is  simply  ludicrous,"  returned  Wendell. 

"  Ludicrous  or  not,"  said  Edward,  "  we  must 
stop  her,  and  at  once,  too.  Mother,  order  the  doc- 
tor's carriage.  Drive  home  at  once,  doctor,  and 


IN   WAR  TIME.  375 

possibly  you  may  be  in  time.  You  can  stop  her, 
can't  you  ?  Hurry,  mother." 

"  I  think  so,  —  I  hope  so,"  rejoined  Wendell, 
who  was  vexed  and  flurried,  and  knew  better  than 
they  what  Ann  was  when  on  what  Mrs.  Westerley 
called  the  war-path  of  a  duty. 

Mrs.  Morton  had  gone  out  at  the  first  mention 
of  action. 

"  Great  heavens,  how  I  suffer ! "  said  Edward. 
"  Doctor,  give  me  the  anodyne  before  you  go.  This 
pain  will  kill  me  some  day.  It  is  like  knives  in  my 
heart!" 

Wendell  was  terribly  annoyed  at  his  sister's  folly, 
and  in  hot  haste  to  repair  it.  "  Is  this  the  bottle  I 
sent  you  to-day  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I  can't  see ;  your 
curtains  make  the  room  so  dark." 

"Yes,  that  is  it,  I  believe,"  returned  Edward, 
groaning.  "  Look  for  yourself,  I  really  don't  know, 
and  for  God's  sake  hurry ;  I  shall  die  of  pain.  But 
about  Ann,  your  sister,  —  that  is  more  important. 
I  forget  other  people  in  my  misery.  Let  Arty  give 
me  my  medicine.  But  be  quick,  some  one.  Now 
do  go." 

Wendell  glanced  hastily  at  the  vials  in  the  half 
light  of  the  darkened  room,  and  taking  up  the  one 
which  was  yet  full,  asked  Arthur  to  put  it  on  the 
mantel. 

"  There,  Arthur,"  said  Wendell,  "  is  the  anodyne, 
the  one  left  on  the  table.  It  has  been  partly  used." 
He  spoke  low,  adding,  "A  teaspoonful,  and  be 
quick.  I  shall  return  as  soon  as  possible.  He  is 
very  ill." 


376  IN   WAR   TIME. 

"  But  perhaps  you  had  better  wait." 

"  No,  I  must  go.  He  wants  me  to  go.  There  is 
not  a  moment  to  lose.  The  medicine  will  ease  him. 
Don't  delay ; "  and  speaking  as  he  moved  toward 
the  door,  he  went  away  annoyed  and  in  angry 
haste. 

Mrs.  Morton  came  into  the  room  as  the  doctor 
left  it,  and  while  Arthur  was  pouring  out  the  medi- 
cine. 

"  Is  that  his  anodyne  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  mother,  it  is  all  right.     Lift  him,  please." 

Then  he  put  the  glass  to  his  brother's  lips,  say- 
ing, "  There,  dear  Ned,  that  will  help  you." 

Edward  drank  it  hastily. 

"  Oh,  mother,  that  pain —  that  pain !  I  was  sure 
it  would  kill  me.  Bring  back  the  doctor !  "  he  sud- 
denly called,  in  a  sharply  pitched  voice.  "  Quick !  " 
Arthur,  without  question,  gave  one  glance,  and  fled 
from  the  room.  Then  Edward  looked  up  at  his 
mother  with  an  infinite  tenderness  in  his  eyes,  the 
thankfulness  of  a  departing  guest. 

"What  is  it?"  she  cried.     "Oh,  what  is  the 
matter  ?     Speak,  Ned,  —  speak  to  me ! " 
/     But  there  was  no  answer.     His  face  whitened ; 
an  awful  semblance  of  a  smile  went  over  it.     He 
was  dead. 

For  an  instant  she  said  no  word,  but  paused  mo- 
tionless by  his  side.  Then  a  wild  terror  seized  her. 
She  picked  up  the  vial,  which  had  been  left  on  the 
table  by  the  bed,  and  staggered  to  the  window.  On 
the  label  she  read.  "  Poison.  Tincture  of  Aco- 
nite. Dose  one  drop.'1'' 


IN   WAR   TIME.  377 

"My  God!"  she  exclaimed.  "Oh,  Ned,  my 
son,  my  own  boy !  and  Arty,  —  it  will  kill  him !  " 

For  a  moment  she  stood  perfectly  still,  gazing  at 
the  label.  Her  faculties  seemed  to  gain  a  super- 
human acuteness.  All  that  was  involved  in  this 
discovery  came  swiftly  before  her,  —  all  that  it 
meant  for  herself  and  for  others,  all  the  vistas  of 
interminable  misery  for  her  only  remaining  child. 
The  clear  conception  of  what  had  happened  and 
would  happen  was  followed  by  the  concentration 
of  mind  which  is  possible  only  when  every  power 
within  the  mental  sphere  is  brought  to  a  focus  by 
such  intensity  of  will  as  some  one  of  the  despotic 
instincts  can  alone  call  forth.  Turning  to  the  man- 
telpiece, she  seized  the  bottle  which  stood  where 
Arthur  had  placed  it.  With  the  vials  clinking  in 
her  trembling  hand,  she  moved  swiftly  to  the  win- 
dow, looking,  as  she  went,  at  the  label,  on  which 
was  written,  "  Anodyne.  Take  one  teaspoonf  ul  as 
directed."  She  returned  quickly  to  execute  her 
purpose  of  placing  the  anodyne  on  the  table  at  the 
bedside.  The  dead,  gray  face  smote  her,  as  she 
neared  it,  as  with  a  physical  blow,  and,  tottering, 
she  dropped  one  of  the  vials.  She  stooped,  grop- 
ing about  to  find  it ;  but  this  brief  delay  was  fatal, 
for  as  she  rose  again  with  the  bottle  in  her  hand, 
Alice  "Westerley  and  Wendell  hastily  entered.  At 
the  terrible  spectacle  before  them  Wendel,  always 
\  /  impulsive  and  emotional,  lost  the  self-control  which 
the  doctor  commonly  learns  to  keep  in  the  face  of 
the  most  abrupt  tragedies;  but  he  loved  Arthur 


378  IN  WAR  TIME. 

well,  and  at  sight  of  the  dead  a  sudden  terror  dazed 
him,  as  with  a  quick  step  he  strode  to  the  bedside. 

"  My  God,  Mrs.  Morton,"  he  cried,  "he  is  dead ! 
Where  is  the  medicine  he  took  ?  " 

"  Here,"  said  Mrs.  Morton,  firmly,  handing  him 
the  anodyne.  "  I  took  it  from  the  table." 

She  was  too  late.  Obeying  an  impulse,  regretted 
an  instant  later,  he  put  to  his  lips  the  spoon  which 
Arthur  had  used,  and  as  suddenly  let  it  fall,  with 
a  shock  of  remembrance  at  his  own  responsibility 
for  what  had  occurred. 

Alice  Westerley  saw  his  dismay.  She  shut  the 
door  which  was  near  her. 

"Oh,  doctor,"  she  asked,  "what  is  it?  What 
has  happened  ?  There  is  something  wrong  !  Did 
he  take  the  wrong  medicine,  Helen  ?  " 

"I  —  I  don't  know,"  returned  Wendell,  who  had 
recognized  the  taste  of  the  deadly  poison,  and  was 
trying  to  collect  his  routed  faculties.  "  When  I  left 
him  he  was  in  great  pain,  but  I  did  not  think  in 
any  danger." 

At  this  moment,  Arthur,  who  had  delayed  to  call 
a  servant  to  take  charge  of  Wendell's  horse,  came 
in  abruptly.  He  was  painfully  excited. 

"Is  he  very  ill?  Oh,  doctor,  what  is  the  mat- 
ter?" Then  he  saw  the  open-eyed,  blank  face  of 
death.  "  But  he  is  dead !  Impossible  !  —  how  can 
he  be  dead?"  Then,  coming  nearer,  he  looked  at 
Edward,  and  turning  on  Wendell  seized  him  by  the 
arm,  saying  with  the  strange,  hoarse  utterance  of 
an  awful  dread,  "What  was  it?  What  did  it? 


IN   WAR   TIME.  379 

Was  the  medicine  right?  I  gave  him  what  he 
always  takes  !  Did  I  make  a  mistake  ?  " 

Wendell  saw  his  own  peril. 

"Hush,  Arty,"  he  said;  "here  is  the  bottle. 
Look,  it  is  all  right.  No  one  is  to  blame." 

Arthur  seized  the  vial,  and  strode  to  the  window ; 
then  he  sunk  into  a  chair,  exclaiming,  "  Thank  God 
for  that,  at  least !  I  was  afraid,  mother,  —  I  was 
afraid  I  had  made  some  mistake.  Oh,  my  brother !  " 

"  There  has  been  no  mistake,"  said  Wendell. 
"  Take  your  mother  away,  my  boy." 

Helen  Morton,  stern  and  tearless,  put  her  hand 
on  Arthur's  shoulder.  "  Help  me  to  my  room," 
she  murmured ;  "  I  am  faint ;  "  but  as  she  passed 
Wendell  she  gathered  force  enough  to  say,  "  Thank 
you,"  and  went  out  like  one  who,  on  the  crumbling 
verge  of  some  abyss,  has  by  a  desperate  effort  won 
\J  a  firmer  ground,  but  who  now,  when  the  effort  is 
over,  feels  all  the  accumulation  of  the  horror  which, 
while  in  action,  it  was  impossible  to  realize.  Full 
well  she  knew  that  Alice  and  Wendell  understood 
what  had  happened,  but  Arthur,  at  least,  did  not, 
and  come  what  might  he  must  never  know. 

Alice  and  Wendell  were  left  with  the  dead. 

"  Wait  one  moment,"  she  whispered,  and  went  to 
the  door,  where  the  anxious  servants  were  collect- 
ing. "  Go  down-stairs,"  she  said,  addressing  them, 
"  and  let  Mrs.  Morton's  maid  go  to  her  at  once.  I 
shall  want  some  of  you  presently.  I  will  ring.  Mr. 
Edward  is  dead.  It  is  some  heart  trouble,  I  be- 
lieve. Don't  make  a  noise." 


380  IN  WAR  TIME. 

Alice  was  quiet  and  collected.  She  had,  as  she 
thought,  seen  through  the  matter  only  too  clearly, 
and  knew  at  once  that  Arthur  must  have  made  a 
mistake,  and  that  for  the  present  a  great  calamity 
had  been  averted.  Closing  the  door  she  turned  to 
Wendell. 

"  Oh,  Ezra !  "  she  said,  in  a  suppressed  voice, 
"  how  terrible  !  I  don't  mean  for  Edward,  —  God 
has  been  kind  to  him,  —  but  Arthur  and  Helen ! 
Oh,  Ezra,  what  shall  we  do  ?  I  wish  I  had  not 
known  it  all.  It  is  such  a  dreadful  thing  to  know ; 
and  how  can  it  be  hidden  ?  How  can  it  ?  " 

"  If,"  he  replied,  "  no  one  ever  speaks  of  it  to 
Arthur,  he  will  certainly  not  suspect  anything.  I 
—  I  had  to  set  his  mind  at  rest." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  she  returned;  "but  what  a 
sad  necessity ! " 

She  knew  that  he  had  not  told  Arthur  the  truth, 
but  not  for  a  moment  did  she  blame  him,  nor  could 
she  dream  how  black  the  lie  for  self -protection  had 
really  been. 

By  this  time  Wendell  had  regained  full  posses- 
sion of  his  mental  powers.  Many  strange  and 
dreadful  possibilities  went  through  his  mind.  He 
saw  that  he  was  safe  if  he  played  out  the  rdle 
which  hard  circumstance  had  arranged  for  him, 
and  which  he  had  seemed  to  accept  as  a  means  of 
saving  Arthur.  There  are  men  —  and  how  many 
let  each  of  us  say  —  who  would  have  frankly 
taken  on  themselves  the  blame  of  Edward's  death. 
Had  Wendell  done  so,  he  would  have  drawn  to 


7.V   WAR   TIME.  381 

himself  for  life  the  woman  at  his  side.  Even  now 
she  was  thinking  of  the  immense  courage  which, 
from  her  estimate,  it  must  have  taken  to  shelter 
another  with  a  falsehood.  Unfortunately,  Wen- 
dell's instincts  of  self-defense  betrayed  him,  as  they 
are  apt  to  betray  a  too  emotional  and  too  imagina- 
tive nature ;  and  when,  later,  he  came  to  think  it 
all  over  more  calmly,  he  felt  that  were  his  true 
share  known,  Alice  would  shrink  from  him  in  hor- 
ror. But  men  of  half-feminine  temperament  rarely 
understand  the  grandeur  of  sacrifice  of  which  wo- 
men are  capable.  There  are  women  who  can  love 
men  they  do  not  respect ;  but  there  are  others  who 
cannot  love  unless  they  also  respect,  and  to  them, 
when  once  their  love  is  given,  the  path  of  some 
difficult  duty  is  no  less  the  path  to  their  larger  love 
than  it  is,  as  the  poet  has  sung,  the  path  to  glory. 

Alice  had  said  that  what  he  had  done  was  a  sad 
necessity. 

"I  think,"  he  returned,  "that  you  had  better 
advise  Mrs.  Morton  never  to  mention,  nor  discuss 
with  Arthur,  the  subject  of  his  brother's  death." 

"But  you,  —  you  will  have  to  say  of  what  he 
died  ;  and  is  n't  there  some  form  ?  It  is  you  I  am 
thinking  of.  Won't  you  have  to  give  a  certificate 
about  the  cause  of  his  death  ?  Is  not  that  usual  ?  " 

Strange  to  say,  Wendell  was  more  disturbed  by 
this  necessity  of  disobeying  the  habitual  moral  code 
of  his  profession  than  by  the  mere  fact  of  the  lie  it- 
self. 

"  Yes,  I  must  do  it,"  he  rejoined,  —  "I  must  do 


382  IN  WAR  TIME. 

it;  there  is  no  help  for  it.  And  what  a  sacri- 
fice!" 

"  It  does  seem  more  than  should  be  asked  of  any 
one,"  she  returned  sadly.  "  How  can  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  I  shall  simply  say  that  it  was  death  from  paral- 
ysis of  the  heart,  which  is  true.  Can  you  see  any- 
thing else  I  can  do  ?  " 

"  I  cannot,"  she  replied ;  "  but  I  should  rather 
do  it  myself  than  have  you  do  it.  I  would  rather 
lie  than  have  you  lie,"  and  she  began  to  feel  a  gath- 
ering horror  at  this  discussion  by  the  side  of  the 
mute  form  before  them.  "  Do  what  you  think 
right.  God  sees,  and  He  alone  can  judge  !  "  She 
would  have  submitted  to  any  torture  to  win  for  him 
some  escape  from  what,  as  she  grew  calmer,  all  her 
nature  increasingly  abhorred,  and  abhorred  in  vain. 
"  Let  us  go.  I  cannot  talk  any  longer,  and  —  and 
—  won't  you  close  his  eyes,  Ezra  ?  " 

Wendell  bent  over  the  dead  man,  troubled 
deeply  by  his  own  capacity  to  evolve  ideas  which 
shook  him  emotionally. 

"  Now,"  he  thought,  —  "  now,  perhaps  he  knows 
all.  And  how  well  he  loved  me !  "  Twice  he 
touched  the  open  lids,  and  twice  drew  back.  At 
last,  he  closed  them  softly.  "  And  does  he  blame 
me  ?  "  he  murmured. 

Then  Alice  kissed  the  dead  face,  and  went  out, 
followed  by  Wendell.  A  few  minutes  later  she 
came  out  of  Mrs.  Morton's  room. 

"Mrs.  Morton  wants  to  see  you  to-morrow, 
early,"  she  said.  "You  have  had  a  sore  trial," 


IN  WAR  TIME.  383 

and,  standing  on  the  step  above  him,  she  kissed 
him,  and  went  up-stairs  again.  Wendell  stayed  a 
moment  looking  after  her,  and  then,  turning  to  meet 
Arthur,  said  a  few  words  of  commonplace  consola- 
tion, such  as  people  are  apt  to  say  on  these  occa- 
sions. 

"You  are  very  kind,"  rejoined  the  young  man. 
"  You  are  always  very  kind.  Since  I  have  had  a 
quiet  moment  I  remember  that  you  pointed  out  to 
me  the  vial,  so  that  of  course  there  could  not  be 
any  mistake." 

Wendell  hesitated  a  moment. 

"  I  really  don't  remember.  I  suppose  I  did. 
Yes,  of  course  I  did.  But  why  should  you  be 
troubled  about  the  medicine  ?  It  was  his  heart  dis- 
ease that  killed  him.  It  had  nothing  to  do  with  his 
medicine.  That  was  all  right." 

He  might  yet  have  to  say  that  he  had  thus 
spoken  to  insure  Arthur's  peace  of  mind. 

" It 's  a  great  relief,"  said  the  latter,  —  "a 
greater  than  any  one  can  imagine." 

"  Well,  never  speak  of  it  to  your  mother,"  re- 
joined Wendell.  "  It 's  all  right.  No  one  was  to 
blame.  Best  never  to  discuss  it  with  your  mother, 
or  any  one.  It  is  God's  doing."  Then  he  had  a 
sudden  horror  of  what  he  had  said.  "  I  mean,"  he 
added,  "it  couldn't  have  been  helped."  The 
young  fellow  wrung  his  hand  and  turned  sadly 
away,  as  the  doctor  went  slowly  and  thoughtfully 
down  the  staircase. 


xxm. 

SOON  there  fell  upon  the  house  the  quiet  with 
which  we  surround  those  who  have  no  longer  the 
power  to  hear,  and  the  servants  went  and  came 
with  the  want  of  naturalness  which  death  inevitably 
brings  to  all  who  are  not  simply  crushed  by  grief. 
Arthur,  too  deeply  hurt  to  be  of  any  use,  sent  for 
Mr.  Wilmington,  and  had  a  curious  wonderment 
because  the  old  man,  who  was  much  attached  to 
Edward,  did  not  seem  to  be  more  shocked  and 
more  visibly  distressed.  Arthur  was  too  young  to 
have  learned  that  age  rarely  retains  life's  primal 
capacity  to  grieve,  and  that  for  it  a  young  life  cut 
short  does  not  awaken  the  same  sense  of  premature 
wreck  as  it  does  in  the  young  themselves.  Age  is 
too  near  eternity  to  value  justly  human  hopes.  Yet 
the  elder  man's  calm  was  of  service  to  Arthur,  and 
steadied  him;  and  then,  too,  the  following  day 
Hester  came  over  with  Ann  Wendell  to  see  him. 

Wendell  had  felt  that  it  was  wise  to  stay  as  long 
as  possible  at  the  Mortons',  so  that  it  was  near 
dusk  before  he  reached  home. 

He  found  Ann  comfortably  seated  in  a  rocking- 
chair,  her  work  on  her  lap,  the  shadows  of  evening 
having  for  a  time  suspended  her  task.  She  was 
singing  one  of  the  old  Puritan  hymn  tunes  with 
which  she  was  wont  to  enliven  her  labor  or  gratify 


IN   WAR  TIME.  385 

her  leisure.  Wendell  stood  still  a  moment  at  the 
door. 

"Ah!  Is  that  you,  Ezra?"  she  said.  "How 
late  you  are!  You  are  getting  very  unpunctual. 
Your  tea  must  be  stone  cold." 

Her  quiet  little  criticism  —  she  smiled  as  she 
spoke  —  exasperated  him. 

"  You,  at  least,  seem  very  comfortable !  "  he  ex- 
claimed, in  a  tone  so  hard  and  unnatural  that  his 
sister  rose  instantly,  facing  him.  Then,  even  in 
the  failing  light,  Ann  saw  that  in  his  face  which 
shocked  her. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  Something  has  gone 
wrong.  What  is  it?" 

He  hesitated   a  moment  before   saying,   "You 

won't  be  so  comfortable  when  I  tell  you."     He  re- 

/  called  with  an  approach  to  fury  that  it  was  the  haste 

caused  by  Ann's  obstinate  folly  that  had  been  the 

true  cause  of  the  disaster  which  had  befallen  him. 

"  Why  do  you  speak  so  to  me,  brother  ? "  she 
said.  "  There  is  nothing  wrong  with  you,  is  there  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  Edward  Morton  died  suddenly,  this 
afternoon." 

"  Dead !  Edward  dead  !  How  dreadful,  Ezra ! 
How  sad  for  you,  brother,  but  not  for  him  —  not 
for  him.  I  have  long  believed  it  could  not  be  far 
off ;  but  death  is  always  near,  and  always  far  off. 
What  can  I  do  for  them?  Don't  you  think  I 
should  go  over  there  at  once  ?  " 

"  No  one  will  want  you,"  he  answered  abruptly. 
"  Edward  was  in  great  pain  when  I  got  there,  and 
your  letter  did  not  make  things  any  better." 


386  IN  WAR  mm. 

"  You  cannot  mean  that  what  I  did  hurt  him ! 
How  could  it  do  that  ?  How  could  I  have  hurt  any 
one  I  loved  so  well  ?  And  it  had  to  be  done,  —  it 
had  to  be  done." 

"  Yes,  and  so  have  all  stupid  follies,  I  suppose." 

"Ezra!" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  it  killed  him,  but  it  did  make 
him  worse.  How  could  it  do  otherwise  ?  " 

"Will  you  tell  me  how  the  boy  died,  brother?" 
She  spoke  quietly  and  softly. 

" I  can't,"  he  said.  "I  —  Don't  ask  me  any 
more  about  it  yet.  I  was  never  in  my  life  so  upset 
by  anything." 

"  Very  well.  Don't  say  any  more  now.  We  will 
talk  of  it  another  time.  But  why  did  Mrs.  Morton 
trouble  the  sick  lad  with  my  letter?  Surely  that 
was  needless." 

"  She  was  so  angry,  Ann,  that  I  think  she  lost 
her  head.  She  broke  out  about  it  before  both  the 
boys.  A  nice  business  you  have  made  of  it !  I  call 
it  wicked." 

Ann's  eyes  filled ;  if  ever  tears  were  bitter, 
hers  were  bitter  then.  Her  incessant  sacrifices  for 
her  brother  had  been  too  purely  instinctive  to  be 
counted  by  her  as  of  any  weight  in  their  mutual 
relations.  Secure  of  his  affection,  she  asked  no 
more  return  for  the  gentle  offices  of  life  than  the 
mother-bird  asks  of  her  young ;  but  that  any  one 
she  loved  should  think  she  would  deliberately  do 
a  wrong  action  disturbed  her  deeply. 

"  What  we  think  right,"  she  said,  "  is  all  the 


IN  WAR  TIME.  387 

right  we  can  do.  The  issues  are  in  other  hands. 
Please  not  to  say  I  am  wicked,  Ezra ;  but  you  did 
not  say  that,  did  you,  —  not  that,  exactly  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  what  I  said.  I  trust  that  you 
were  not  fool  enough  to  talk  to  Mr.  Gray.  In  fu- 
ture I  hope  you  will  consult  me  about  things  which 
concern  me  more  than  any  one  else." 

"  I  will  do  as  you  say,  brother,  as  to  anything  in 
which  my  conscience  is  not  concerned." 

"  Conscience !  I  am  tired  of  hearing  of  it.  Did 
you  see  Mr.  Gray  ?  " 

"  I  did  not.  He  failed  to  come,  as  he  said  he 
would.  He  was  delayed,  and  has  sent  a  letter  for 
you." 

Wendell  took  it  from  her.  "  When  he  does 
come,  Ann,  you  must  not  speak  to  him  at  all  about 
this  matter.  I  shall  attend  to  it  myself." 

"Oh,"  said  Ann,  shocked  into  unusual  subjuga- 
tion, "  if  you  will  do  so,  I  shall  be  much  relieved, 
Ezra.  You  are  certainly  the  proper  person ;  but 
you  did  not  appear  to  think  it  quite  so  important 
as  it  seemed  to  me." 

"  Very  well,"  he  returned,  "  we  shall  see ; "  but 
he  made  no  such  pledge  as  Ann  desired. 

"  Has  Mr.  Morton  been  heard  from?  "  she  asked. 
"  Somehow  I  cannot  feel  at  ease  about  it.  I  just 
seem  to  be  putting  aside  a  duty.  And  this  awful 
death !  It  seems  to  bring  one's  duties  closer,  Ezra." 

"  Perhaps,"  rejoined  Wendell,  "  it  may  comfort 
you  to  know  that  Colonel  Morton  has  been  heard 
from,  and  that  he  says  it  is  simply  absurd ;  so  I 


388  IN  WAR  TIME. 

trust  we  have  now  heard  the  last  of  it,  Ann.  It 
has  made  mischief  enough  to  satisfy  any  woman." 

Her  brother's  positiveness  confused  her.  She 
was  not  clear  as  to  being  in  any  way  responsible, 
and  concluded  that  Ezra's  outbreak  was  due  partly 
to  his  grief,  and  partly  to  the  irritability  of  a  man 
not  quite  well,  and  now  worn  out  by  the  strain  the 
day's  events  had  put  upon  him.  She  had  the  ma- 
/  ternal  feeling  that  unusual  peevishness  must  be  due 
to  some  distinct  failure  in  health. 

"You  must  be  sick,  brother,"  she  said  gently. 
"  You  never  have  talked  to  me  this  way  before !  " 

It  was  not  in  Wendell  to  like  to  wound,  and  he 
was  made  uncomfortable  by  his  sister's  increasing 
distress;  but  we  cannot  strike  and  not  hurt  our 
own  knuckles. 

"  I  am  perfectly  wretched,"  he  returned.  "  This 
death  has  been  too  much  for  me.  You  must  for- 
give me,  sister." 

"  Don't  ask  me  to  forgive  you,  brother.  It  hurts 
me  to  think  that  you  feel  I  have  anything  to  for- 
give. You  will  go  and  lie  down,  won't  you  ?  I 
will  not  mention  that  business  any  more." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  and  went  up-stairs. 

Once  in  his  room  he  threw  himself  on  the  bed, 
and  with  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  head  lay  still 
and  thought. 

He  was  annoyed  that  he  could  not  steadily  con- 
trol his  own  logical  processes.  He  tried  to  feel 
clear  that  he  was  not  entirely  to  blame  for  Ed- 
ward's death,  and  then  essayed  with  some  ease  to 


IN  WAR  TIME.  389 

persuade  himself  that  Arthur  was  the  person  most 
blamable,  and  yet  that  even  if  he  himself  had  been 
hasty  or  careless  he  was  bound  to  protect  Arthur, 
and  that  to  speak  frankly  would  never  so  entirely 
clear  Arthur  as  to  be  of  any  use.  Still,  no  sooner 
had  he  seemingly  satisfied  himself  than  thoughts 
which  rose  unsummoned,  like  ghosts,  startled  him, 
and  filled  his  mind  with  new  and  horrible  sugges- 
tions of  future  risks  and  dangers.  Vivid  and  terri- 
ble images  of  the  fatal  moment  of  haste  came  be- 
fore him,  and  with  a  memory  of  his  physical  recoil 
he  saw  again  the  dead,  and  his  own  hand  stretched 
out  to  close  the  open  eyes.  It  was  growing  dark. 
He  rose  and  lit  the  gas.  As  he  crossed  the  room 
he  remembered  the  Middle-Age  belief  that  the 
blood  would  flow  anew  when  the  slayer  touched 
the  dead  slain.  There  was  a  grotesque  horror  in 
the  idea  that  in  a  man  who  had  been  poisoned 
this  could  not  be.  He  sat  down,  with  his  face  in 
his  hands,  and  gave  way  to  a  strange  sense  of  men- 
tal confusion,  a  valueless  jostling  of  incongruous 
thoughts  and  memories  and  fears,  which  seemed  to 
come  and  go  on  the  stage  of  consciousness,  until  at 
last  the  giddiness  which  sometimes  follows  great 
emotional  tension  made  him  stagger  to  the  bed,  on 
which  he  fell  heavily. 

Then  happening  to  see  Mr.  Gray's  letter,  which 
had  dropped  on  the  floor,  and  being  a  little  eased 
by  the  supine  position,  the  physical  distress  of  his 
vertigo  having  for  the  time  cleared  his  head  of  its 
thronging  and  uncontrollable  phantoms,  he  opened 


390  IN   WAR   TIME. 

the  envelope.  It  contained  a  kind  note,  in  which 
Mr.  Gray  desired  the  doctor  to  tell  Hester  that,  if 
pleasant  for  her,  he  wished  her  in  a  week  or  two  to 
go  with  him  to  Baltimore,  and  farther  south  if  the 
state  of  the  country  made  that  possible.  He  re- 
peated his  thanks  to  Miss  Wendell  and  her  brother, 
and  said  that  even  if  Hester  wished  to  return  to 
them  for  a  time,  he  would  like  now  to  take  charge 
of  the  sum  placed  in  Wendell's  hands.  He  hoped, 
however,  that  Dr.  Wendell  would  not  feel  unwilling 
to  retain  a  thousand  dollars,  as  he  had  before  asked 
him  to  do,  and  also  would  kindly  render  him  a  full 
account  of  the  extent  to  which  money  had  been  ex- 
pended for  Hester's  board  and  dress.  He  desired 
that  the  nine  thousand  dollars  might  be  remitted  to 
him  in  New  York  by  draft  as  soon  as  convenient. 

This  added  blow  fell  with  but  little  weight  on 
Wendell.  Capacity  to  feel  anxiety  has  its  limits  in 
mysterious  failures  of  response  in  the  brain  cells, 
^  and  in  some  people  convulsive  explosions  of  emo- 
tional torment  make  impossible  for  a  time  the  nor- 
mal activities  which  an  intellectual  conception  of  a 
difficulty  or  trouble  should  awaken.  He  had  a  cer- 
tain obscure  sense  that  this  matter  had  been  pro- 
vided for,  until  suddenly  he  remembered  that  this 
idea  was  due  to  Edward's  promise  to  lend  him 
money.  A  more  commercially  minded  man  would 
very  early  have  presented  to  himself  this  as  one,  at 
least,  of  the  embarrassments  which  arose  out  of  this 
calamity,  but  Wendell  was  not  prone  to  think  even 
enough  of  money.  To  do  him  justice,  through  all 


IN  WAR  TIME.  391 

his  fears,  and  efforts  at  self -vindication,  there  was 
forever  coming  and  going  a  remembrance  of  how 
dear  to  him  had  been  the  young  man  who  was 
dead,  how  noble  he  had  been,  how  tender  and  true 
a  friend.  Recalling  Edward's  self-sacrificing  char- 
acter, he  even  tried  to  find  in  this  an  excuse  for  his 
own  concealment,  not  for  the  moment  setting  before 
himself  the  conception  that  in  hiding  the  truth  he 
was  allowing  an  innocent  person  to  bear  his  guilt, 
even  if  only  in  the  minds  of  Mrs.  Morton  and  Mrs. 
Westerley. 

"And  really,"  he  said  to  himself,  "a  brother 
should  have  been  the  most  careful ;  "  and  he  thus 
confused  himself  at  moments  into  a  state  of  rest  of 
mind.  Many  people  are  helped  at  such  times  by 
their  incapacity  to  think  clearly,  and  at  all  times 
Wendell,  who  was  admirably  veneered  with  intelli- 
gence, was  incapable  of  attaining  in  any  of  his 
logical  processes  the  definiteness  of  results  which  is 
reached  by  more  thoroughly  trained  intellects. 

By  degrees,  this  matter  of  the  money  he  was  un- 
able to  return  to  its  owner  began  to  relate  itself 
painfully  to  Alice  Westerley.  Too  well  he  knew 
what  sentence  he  might  have  to  read  in  those  eyes, 
whose  light  would  be  to  him  as  the  sheen  on  the 
blade  of  the  angel  of  judgment.  For  the  time  the 
nearness  of  this  peril  routed  all  other  terrors,  and 
he  sat  on  the  bedside  holding  the  letter  and  thinking 
the  vain  thoughts  of  a  man  without  resource.  At 
last  he  felt  again  the  dizziness  which  is  so  apt,  upon 
concentration  of  mental  effort,  to  return  to  a  brain 


392  /AT  WAR   TIME. 

recently  overstrained  by  either  work  or  emotion. 
Then  he  began  to  fear  lest  some  horrible  physical 
incapacity  should  come  upon  him,  and  paralyze  his 
activity.  Stuffing  the  letter  into  his  pocket,  he 
opened  the  door  and  called,  "  Ann !  Bring  me 
some  whisky."  He  took  a  half  tumblerful,  and 
quieting  her  fears  said  that  he  would  undress  and 
go  to  bed.  Then  he  locked  the  door,  and  still  con- 
fused threw  himself  dressed  on  the  bed,  and  was 
soon  in  a  deep  sleep,  brought  on  by  the  unaccus- 
tomed stimulus. 

The  next  morning  his  head  ached,  and  he  went 
back  to  bed,  asking  Ann  to  request  a  friendly  phy- 
sician near  by  to  see  for  him  such  of  his  cases  as 
needed  care.  She  wrote  also  to  Mrs.  Morton  that, 
overcome  by  the  events  of  the  day  before,  he  had 
/remained  at  home,  suffering  from  a  severe  head- 
ache. 

He  was  glad,  indeed,  when  Ann  herself  suggested 
this  course  to  him,  and  felt  it  an  inconceivable  re- 
lief not  so  soon  again  to  have  to  enact  his  part  be- 
fore Mrs.  Morton,  and  possibly  Alice.  From  the 
former  there  came  kind  inquiries,  and  later  in  the 
day  a  note  from  Alice  Westerley.  It  was  simply  a 
loving  little  remembrance  in  words,  with  of  course 
no  allusion  to  the  scene  through  which  they  had  so 
lately  passed. 

Towards  evening  a  servant  came  over  to  ask  Dr. 
Wendell  for  the  usual  formal  attestation  of  a  death. 
We  have  said  that  he  had  looked  forward  to  this 
act  with  dread.  He  remembered  too  well  the  day 


IN  WAR  TIME.  393 

when  he  had  failed  to  meet  a  professional  obligation 
V/ brought  on  him  by  the  unlooked-for  chances  of  war. 
It  had  been  known  to  few,  and  not  to  Ann,  but  he 
had  bitterly  regretted  his  weakness,  and  had  only 
by  degrees  succeeded  in  putting  it  aside  from  his 
life ;  and  now  again  he  was  to  sin  against  the 
moral  code  of  his  profession.  The  need  was  too 
urgent  to  admit  of  long  reflection.  He  wrote  with 
haste  the  name  and  age,  gave  as  the  cause  of  death 
paralysis  of  the  heart,  and  signed  his  name.  After 
putting  the  paper  in  an  envelope,  he  took  it  out 
and  looked  at  it  again,  wondering  whether  his  sig- 
nature would  exhibit  any  of  the  peculiar  feelings 
with  which  he  wrote  it. 

The  next  morning,  early,  he  received  a  note  from 
Mrs.  Morton,  asking  him  to  call  as  soon  as  he  was 
able,  and  containing  other  matter  of  so  grave  a  na- 
ture that  he  hastened  to  write  a  reply,  at  the  close 
of  which  he  excused  his  prolonged  absence  on  the 
plea  of  continued  suffering. 

The  constant  petty  need  for  self-command  which 
becomes  a  part  of  the  social  training  of  women  like 
Mrs.  Morton  is  apt  to  make  effectual  those  larger 
efforts  which  are  now  and  then  demanded  by  some 
grave  exigency.  But  supplementing  this,  Mrs. 
Morton  had  one  of  those  natures  which  are  stead- 
ied by  great  emergencies,  and  sometimes  unduly 
excited  by  small  ones.  In  the  presence  of  her  dead 
son,  she  broke  into  the  passionate  grief  of  sorely 
wounded  motherhood ;  but  away  from  this  dreary 
reminder,  she  shocked  or  surprised  all  her  friends, 


394  IN  WAR  TIME. 

save  Alice,  by  a  calmness  and  self-control  to  the 
mystery  of  which  they  had  no  clew.  Three  days 
after  her  son's  death  she  said  to  Alice  Westerley, 
"  I  have  been  unwilling  to  talk  to  you,  or  to  any 
one  ;  but  now  I  have  made  up  my  mind,  and  I  want 
to  say  some  things  to  you,  and  then  I  desire  never 
again  to  speak  of  them  or  hear  of  them." 

Alice  had  dreaded  this  talk,  but  on  the  whole 
was  not  sorry  to  have  it  over.  She  too  had  some- 
thing which  she  felt  must  be  said. 

"  I  think,"  she  answered,  "  you  are  very  right, 
Helen.  I  have  not  ceased  to  feel  how  hard  it  is 
for  you  that  a  thing  as  sacred  and  sweet  as  the  end- 
ing of  this  dear  life  should  come  to  you  surrounded 
with  such  awful  bitterness  of  suffering  and  such 
unusual  trials.  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for 
you?" 

"  No,  there  is  nothing.  You  understand  me ; 
that  is  something  you  have  done  for  me.  Beyond 
it  there  is  nothing,  —  nothing !  When  once  this 
talk  is  over,  we  will  let  its  remembrance  be  as  a 
thing  that  is  dead  and  buried  with  my  boy  ;  but  now 
there  are  things  I  must  say,  —  I  cannot  live  alone 
with  them." 

"  And  what,  dear  Helen  ?  " 

"  Have  you  thought,  Alice,  that  Arthur,  whose 

carelessness  cost  my  Edward's  life,  is  his  sole  heir  ? 

/  That  he  ignorantly  profits  by  it  ?     That  his  way  to 

an   easy,   happy    marriage   is    smoothed    by   this 

deed?" 

"  Oh,  Helen,  don't  talk  of  a  pure  accident  as 


/AT  WAR   TIME.  395 

'  this  deed  ' !  It  sounds  too  much  like  speaking  of 
a  voluntary  act." 

"  I  spoke  as  a  malicious  world  might  speak. 
What  would  such  a  story  become  with  the  com- 
ments of  Mrs.  Grace  or  a  half  dozen  others  we 
can  name  ?  What  would  happen  to  my  son  if  such 
a  whisper  reached  him  ?  He  would  say,  '  I  cannot 
touch  this  money  ; '  and  then  this  feeling  would  be 
called  remorse.  Oh,  I  have  tasted  this  cup  in  all 
its  bitterness,  Alice  !  " 

"  But  he  never  can  hear.  He  never  will  hear, 
unless  you  betray  yourself.  I  trust  he  has  not  the 
faintest  idea  of  his  share  in  it,  poor  lad  !  " 

"  Not  the  least,  Alice.  He  has  seen  the  doctor's 
certificate,  and  you  yourself  heard  what  Dr.  Wen- 
dell said  to  him.  No  ;  I  do  believe  he  has  not  the 
very  faintest  suspicion.  Indeed,  how  could  he? 
But  I  shudder  lest  something  should  turn  up  to 
make  him  inquire  further.  Suppose  I  were  ill,  or 
dying,  and  were  to  let  slip  some  word  of  terror ; 
and  never,  never,  will  this  be  out  of  my  mind  !  Oh, 
I  shudder  to  think  of  it !  Even  the  most  unlikely 
possibilities  become  probable  to  me,  and  it  seems  to 
me  that  there  is  no  precaution  I  can  take  which 
would  be  needless.  And  you,  —  can  you  always 
j  be  sure  of  yourself  ?  And  there  is  Dr.  Wendell. 
\J\  The  very  ease  with  which  he  accepted  the  situation 
\  alarmed  me.  It  seemed  like  weakness." 

"  Indeed,  my  friend,"  returned  Alice,  "  you  are 
making  yourself  distrustful  without  just  cause. 
Like  you,  I  too  have  thought  over  all  this  sad  affair. 


396  IN   WAR  TIME. 

To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  think  we  were  all  wrong : 
you  and  I,  who  were  swept  away  by  our  love,  and 
Dr.  Wendell,  who  nobly  accepted  a  compromising 
position  to  shelter  one  who  is  not  of  his  kindred. 
You  and  I  may  lie,  and  believe  that  he  who  knows 
all  things  and  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  will  forgive 
us ;  but,  Helen,  whether  you  —  whether  you  had  a 
right  to  permit  a  man  in  Dr.  Wendell's  pkce  to 
protect  your  son  at  the  cost  of  his  own  honor  —  is 
—  I  think  —  you  won't  mind  what  I  say  ?  —  I  think 
it  wrong." 

Mrs.  Morton  reflected  a  moment.  "I  did  not 
ask  him  to  do  it,"  she  said. 

"  No,  but  you  accepted  the  sacrifice,  and  you 
thanked  him." 

"  And  could  I  have  been  human  and  not  have 
done  so?  Put  yourself  in  my  place.  If  Arthur 
had  been  your  son,  what  would  you  have  done  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say,  Helen.  No  one  can  put  herself 
in  another's  place.  And  yet  —  and  yet  I  cannot 
think  you  were  right ;  and,  dear,  to  blame  you 
even  in  thought  at  a  time  like  this  seems  to  me 
cruel." 

"I  must  say,  Alice,  that  you  appear  to  think 
more  of  Dr.  Wendell  than  of  me." 

"  I  think  of  you  both.  He  has  not  in  this  mat- 
ter the  stake  you  have,  and  for  him  it  must  be  in- 
conceivably painful.  And  yet  I  confess  that  I  see 
now  no  escape.  It  might  have  been  better  to  have 
faced  the  truth  openly  at  first,  and  taken  the  con- 
sequences, —  better,  dear,  even  for  Arthur." 


IN  WAR   TIME.  397 

"You  cannot  expect  me,  at  least,  to  think  so. 
But  now,  Alice,  that  things  have  gone  so  far,  what 
course  except  silence  is  left  us  and  him  ?  I  mean, 
what  in  your  judgment  ?  Mine  has  never  varied. 
I  shall  defend  my  boy  at  all  costs,  —  at  any  one's 
cost." 

"  I  see  no  other  course,"  Alice  sadly  replied. 
"  We  have  been  wrong,  and  —  now  we  must  abide 
by  it,"  and  silently  she  thought  of  Wendell. 

"  Why,"  questioned  Mrs.  Morton,  —  "  why  do 
you  suppose  Dr.  Wendell  has  not  been  here  ?  I 
sent  for  him." 

"  But  you  told  me  that  Miss  Ann  said  he  was 
sick." 

"  Yes,  and  he  has  written  me  himself  to  the 
same  effect,  but  he  must  know  how  intensely  desir- 
.  /bus  I  am  to  see  him.  She  says  it  is  a  headache. 
^  A  headache  !  " 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  that  is  a  mere  excuse.  Cannot 
you  imagine  that  a  man  may  have  been  shaken  by 
what  he  went  through  ?  And  he  is  a  very  sensi- 
tive man,  Helen." 

"  I  know  all  that,  but  I  think  he  should  have 
come.  I  want  to  feel  more  sure  about  him." 

"  And  you  distrust  him  after  what  he  has  done 
for  you  ?  " 

"I  —  I  distrust  every  one, — him,  you,  myself, 
Arthur,  every  one !  I  must  feel  more  certain,  or  it 
will  kiU  me  !  " 

"  But  how  can  you  feel  more  certain  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  —  yet,  but  I  must.  I  do  not  like 
this  delay  in  coming  here." 


398  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  It  seems  to  me  natural  enough." 

Mrs.  Morton  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then 
said,  — 

"  Did  I  tell  you  what  my  poor  Edward  said  to 
me  about  Dr.  Wendell  being  a  good  deal  in 
debt?" 

"  No,  but  it  does  not  surprise  me.  He  must 
have  had  many  expenses  ;  and  there  was  Hester." 

"  Edward  wished  to  put  him  at  ease,  and  had 
not  enough  money  on  hand,  so  he  asked  me  to  lend 
him  a  thousand  dollars  for  a  few  days." 

"  And  did  you  ?  " 

"  I  said  I  would.  I  did  not  think  Edward  was 
right,  but  you  know,  dear,  I  never  refused  that  boy 
anything." 

"  And  why  do  you  speak  of  this  now  ?  "  queried 
Alice,  who  was  all  alive  with  a  terrible  anticipa- 
tion. She  understood  Helen  Morton  well,  and 
knew  that  she  was  at  times  determined  to  carry 
her  plans  at  any  cost,  and  that  in  a  difficulty,  such 
as  the  one  before  her,  no  considerations  were  likely 
to  arise  except  how  to  meet  it. 

Her  friend's  manner  was  full  of  suspicion  for 
Mrs.  Morton. 

"I  thought,"  she  explained,  "I  would  fulfill 
Edward's  wishes,  and  I  sent  Dr.  Wendell  the 
amount  Edward  mentioned  as  desirable." 

"  How  much  ?  "  asked  Alice,  faintly. 

"  Five  thousand  dollars,  —  a  check,  dear." 

"  You  sent  him  five  thousand  dollars  !  " 

"  Yes.     It  would  have  been  my  boy's  wish." 


IN  WAR  TIME.  399 

"  My  God,  how  horrible  !  "  exclaimed  Alice. 

"  Horrible !  What  do  you  mean,  Alice  !  "  de- 
manded Mrs.  Morton,  sternly. 

"  I  mean,"  said  Alice,  "  that  you  did  not  do  this 
as  a  gift  from  our  dead  Edward.  You  gave  it  as 
a  bribe  to  silence  !  That  is  why  you  gave  it.  And 
how  could  you  do  it  ?  A  man  does  a  wrong  thing 
from  noble  motives,  and  because  you  never  liked 
him  you  insult  him  with  an  offer  of  money,  and 
this  when  you  knew  him  to  be  in  difficulties  !  And 
the  folly  of  it,  — the  folly  of  it !  "  Alice  rose  and 
walked  to  and  fro,  agitated  and  angry. 

"  You  told  me  that  you  could  not  put  yourself  in 
my  place,"  said  Mrs.  Morton,  "  and  now  I  am  sure 
of  it.  I  dare  not  trust  any  one,  and  I  must  make 
myself  certain." 

"  And  does  this  make  you  certain  ?  It  makes  you 
insecure,  if  that  were  possible.  Do  you  suppose  a 
gentleman  —  do  you  suppose  a  man  like  Wendell 
will  let  you  smirch  his  motives  with  even  the  sem- 
blance of  a  bribe  ?  "  She  recalled  Wendell's  sad 
and  refined  face,  and  saw,  as  it  were,  the  scorn  of 
his  lips.  "  He  will  send  it  back  to  you,"  she  af- 
firmed, "  and  you  will  have  hurt  a  fast  friend,  or 
even  made  an  enemy.  I  should  hate  you  were  I  he." 

Helen  looked  the  surprise  she  felt.  "Read 
that,"  she  said. 

Alice  took  the  open  note ;  and  reading  it,  life 
grew  black  before  her.  Its  sweetness  went  out  of 
it,  and  belief  in  man,  and  trust  in  God.  It  was 
this:  — 


400  IN   WAR   TIME. 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Morton,  your  kind  note,  with  its  in- 
closing, fulfilling  my  dear  friend's  wishes  as  ex- 
pressed to  me,  has  touched  me  deeply.  I  hasten 
to  thank  you,  and  to  say  how  great  a  relief  it  is  to 
me.  I  can  never  forget  the  terms  in  which  you 
speak  of  my  services  to  him,  and  I  thank  you 
again,  both  for  the  act  and  the  words  which  accom- 
pany it.  You  do  not  speak  of  it  as  a  loan,  but  as 
that  I  must  of  course  consider  it.  I  shall,  I  think, 
be  able  to  see  you  to-morrow  or  the  day  after.  I 
must  ask,  as  I  am  sensitive  about  such  matters, 
that  you  will  not  mention  this  to  Arthur  or  to  Mrs. 
Westerley." 

"Not  mention  this  to  Mrs.  Westerley?"  said 
Alice,  standing  with  the  note  in  her  hand. 

"  Of  course,"  returned  Mrs.  Morton,  "  that  was 
a  matter  for  my  discretion.  You  had  to  know  it, 
as  you  know  all  the  rest  of  it." 

Alice  felt  that  she  must  get  out  into  the  air. 
The  paper  fell  on  the  floor  as  she  spoke  in  broken 
tones :  "  Oh,  he  said  well  who  said  there  is  no 
•wrong  which  has  not  a  child!  You  have  done  a 
/  wicked  thing.  Don't  talk  to  me  any  more  now.  I 
cannot  bear  it !  May  God  forgive  you,  —  I  never 
can !  Let  me  go,  —  let  me  go  !  Life  is  over,  — 
life  is  dead." 

"  Alice,  —  Alice !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Morton, 
alarmed.  "I  could  not  have  dreamed  of  this.' 
Don't  go !  " 

"  I  must,  —  I  must !  Don't  stop  me !  I  shall 
die!  I  shall  fall  dead  if  I  stay  here!  Room, 


IN  WAR  TIME.  401 

room !  "  she  cried,  wildly.  "  Let  me  pass !  Let 
me  go !  "  and  with  a  face  that  scared  her  friend 
she  left  the  room,  and  presently  was  moving  swiftly 
across  the  lawn.  Walking  with  a  fierce  energy 
which  represented  in  physical  action  the  agony  of 
restrained  emotion,  she  passed  through  the  lanes. 
It  was  the  close  of  June,  and  the  air  was  warm 
even  in  the  afternoon,  so  that  in  her  own  house  the 
long  windows  were  open  to  the  floor.  Alice  was 
glad  of  it,  as  it  enabled  her  to  enter  unnoticed. 
She  caught  at  the  nearest  chair,  sat  down  at  once, 
and  a  minute  later  was  aware  of  Hester  at  her 
side. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  girl,  "  I  am  glad  to  have  found 
you.  How  are  they  all  ?  " 

But  hearing  no  answer,  she  came  close  to  the 
chair.  Alice  was  shaking,  unable  to  speak.  Hes- 
ter turned  in  alarm  to  call  for  help,  when  Alice 
said  explosively,  "  Don't  —  ring !  "  Hester  was 
quick-witted,  and  her  life  in  a  doctor's  house  had 
not  left  her  quite  ignorant.  She  knew  at  once  that 
/this  was  an  attack  of  nervous  agitation,  and  that 
v  Alice  was  unwilling  to  have  it  seen.  She  closed 
the  door,  and  kneeling  without  a  word  held  Alice's 
hands  steadily  in  hers,  while  the  elder  woman  set 
herself  with  great  effort  to  overcome  the  physical 
agitation  which  now  possessed  her.  She  was  suffer- 
ing from  one  of  those  wild  insurrections  which  seem 
to  be  the  natural  result  of  the  social  laws  which  so 
continually  crush  into  expressionless  silence  the 
normal  outbursts  of  our  passions  or  emotions.  By 


402  IN  WAR   TIME. 

and  by  Alice  grew  more  quiet,  and  at  last  her  tre- 
mor ceased,  and  she  fell  back  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  You  are  better,"  said  Hester  ;  "  but  shall  I  not 
run  home  and  ask  Dr.  Wendell  to  come  ?  He  is 
not  out,  you  know,  to-day,  but  I  am  sure  he  would 
come  at  once  if  he  knew  you  were  ill." 

"  No,"  replied  Alice,  "  I  want  no  one ;  and  you 
will  never  tell  any  one  of  this.  I  have  had  a  great 
shock,  Hester,  and  it  has  nearly  killed  me." 

Hester  of  course  presumed  that  it  was  Edward's 
death  of  which  she  spoke.  "  I  can  well  imagine 
it,"  she  returned. 

"  No,  you  cannot,  child,  any  more  than  you  can 
imagine  death.  But  now  I  want  to  be  alone  ;  so 
please  go  home,  and  let  this  be  as  between  us  two. 
You  behaved  quietly,  —  I  like  that ;  and  kiss  me, 
dear." 

Somewhat  reluctantly  Hester  went  away  wonder- 
ing, leaving  Alice  Westerley  to  the  sad  company 
of  her  own  thoughts.  Like  Wendell,  the  woman 
he  loved  had  also  to  face  a  future.  As  her  physical 
control  returned,  she  began  to  find  it  possible  to 
think.  She  knew  that  by  degrees  she  had  gathered 
interest  in  Wendell,  and  that  a  part  of  it  arose 
from  her  power  to  lift  him  out  of  his  moods,  and 
to  sympathize  with  his  theoretical  ambitions.  He 
had  said  that  others  had  not  that  ability,  and  the 
attribution  of  exceptional  capacity  is  a  subtle 
flattery.  Then  he  was  gentle,  sad,  and  with  all 
his  intellect,  which  Alice  rated  too  highly,  he  had 
much  of  that  strange  dependence  on  women  which 


2N  WAR  TIME.  403 

some  much  larger  characters  have  exhibited.  She 
knew  that  she  had  had  full  warning  as  to  where 
the  path  she  trod  would  lead,  but  each  step  was 
pleasant,  and  the  steps  unconsciously  multiplied, 
until  when  Colonel  Fox  spoke  return  was  impossi- 
ble. Her  lover  had  now  done  that  thing  which 
more  than  justified  Colonel  Fox  and  all  that  the 
malicious-minded  had  whispered. 

A  great  writer  has  said  that  in  all  women's  love 
there  is  a  maternal  element.  It  rose  at  times  wildly 
in  Alice's  breast,  making  her  yearn  to  help  and 
protect  Wendell,  and  for  the  moment  utterly  blind- 
ing her  to  the  depth  of  infamy  to  which  he  had  de- 
scended. This,  indeed,  was  to  her  most  strange. 
How  could  a  learned,  scholar-like  man,  of  gentle 
ways  and  refined  tastes,  suddenly  fall  so  far !  She 
shuddered.  There  must  have  been  events  in  his 
life  of  which  she  knew  not,  —  horrible  preparations 
for  this  final  degradation.  Then  also  there  was 
something  blundering  and  stupid  about  it  all, — 
about  his  note,  and  his  mode  of  acceptance,  and  his 
reference  to  Alice.  And  why  did  he  not  come  to 
her,  if  he  was  in  such  sore  straits?  "And  if  he 
had,  —  oh,  if  he  had," — she  exclaimed  aloud,  "I 
should  have  married  him ;  and  then  —  and  then  — 
some  day  I  should  have  come  to  know  that  he  could 
do  such  things  as  this  !  " 

And  here  it  struck  her  that  she  was  ingeniously 
torturing  herself.  "  I  must  decide,"  she  said. 

In  fact,  from  the  instant  that  she  read  Wendell's 
note  to  Mrs.  Morton  she  had  made  up  her  mind ; 


404  IN  WAR  TJVE. 

nay,  all  the  habits  and  sentiments  of  a  life  of  truth 
and  purity  and  honor  made  it  up  for  her.  When 
seeming  to  hesitate  she  was  only  cheating  love's 
sweet  patience  with  the  semblance  of  indecision. 

How  the  next  twenty-four  hours  were  passed 
Alice  Westerley  could  hardly  have  told  a  year  or 
two  later.  Great  moral  catastrophes,  like  physical 
shocks,  disturb  or  even  obliterate  in  some  minds 
the  memory  of  the  lesser  events  which  follow  them. 
It  may  be  added  that  she  was  suffering  less  acutely. 
For  the  mind,  as  for  the  body,  the  tiger  claws  of 
calamity  bring  about  for  a  time  a  certain  amount 
of  incapacity  to  feel  further  anguish,  and  leave  us 
crushed,  inert,  and  hopeless. 

The  day  after  her  talk  with  Mrs.  Morton,  Alice 
sat  alone,  towards  evening,  in  her  drawing-room. 
Unsympathetic  nature  mocked  her  mood  with  the 
sun  of  a  June  day,  and  with  full  eyes  she  sat  watch- 
ing a  pair  of  humming-birds  as  they  darted  through 
the  swaying  roses  which  hung  about  the  window. 

At  this  moment  she  heard  a  step  on  the  gravel 
walk,  and  catching  a  glimpse  of  Wendell  stepped 
back  into  the  room  as  he  rang  the  bell.  Then,  with- 
out a  moment's  hesitation,  she  went  to  the  door  of 
the  room  and  waited  until  the  servant  appeared  in 
the  hall,  when  she  said,  — 

"  I  am  not  at  home  to  any  one,  —  to  any  one." 

She  stood  with  one  hand  clutching  at  her  heart, 
holding  her  breath  for  the  moment,  as  she  heard  a 
voice  but  too  well  known,  and  then  through  the 
vines  saw  Wendell  turn  and  go  slowly  down  the 


IN  WAR  TIME.  405 

gravel  path.  She  could  see  his  side  face,  its  pallor 
and  the  fineness  of  its  lines.  She  gave  way  for  the 
moment.  Overcome  by  her  emotions,  and  hardly 
knowing  what  she  meant  to  do,  she  turned  to  a 
window  which  opened  out  on  to  the  porch  and  gave 
access  to  the  garden.  It  was  closed,  and  fastened 
by  a  catch.  The  physical  effort  needed  to  move  it 
steadied  her,  and  when  she  succeeded  in  lifting  the 
sash  she  paused  irresolute,  and  remained  standing 
by  the  window  while  Wendell  walked  slowly  and 
^  hesitatingly  away  from  her,  down  the  little  avenue 
of  maples  which  led  to  the  gate. 

"  And  with  that  face ! "  she  thought,  as  she 
moved  away,  "  I  don't  know  how  it  can  be !  "  For 
the  moment  she  had  a  wild  desire  to  see  Wendell, 
and  to  tell  him  that,  love  him  as  she  might,  mar- 
riage was  out  of  the  question;  but  she  was  wise 
enough  to  fear  her  own  weakness,  and  to  know  that 
to  say  to  his  face  what  she  must  say  would  but  add 
to  the  sum  of  her  misery  an  incalculable  torment. 

The  love  she  dreaded  to  torture  face  to  face  was 
as  strong  as  her  own,  and  the  capacity  for  the  nur- 
ture of  an  intense  affection  was  large  in  Wendell, 
—  of  a  half -womanly  largeness,  —  and  represented 
a  life  of  absolute  purity. 

As  he  left  her  house  he  knew  that  his  reception 
had  been  unusual.  He  had  seen  Mrs.  Morton,  who 
had  been  kind  and  thankful,  and  had  so  stated  her 
gratitude  as  to  make  him  feel  that  the  money  he 
had  taken  with  apparent  reluctance  was  in  a  meas- 
ure earned  ;  but  no  word  had  been  said  about  Mrs. 


406  IN  WAR   TIME. 

Westerley.  Mrs.  Morton  did  not  know  what  to 
say,  or  in  fact  whether  she  could  wisely  do  any- 
thing but  keep  silent,  and  for  the  time  her  own 
grief  was  paramount.  Then  Wendell  had  walked 
up  the  main  street,  and  been  much  questioned  as  to 
Edward's  death  by  Mrs.  Bullock  and  by  Miss  Sarah 
Grace,  who  was  developing  a  promising  faculty  for 
the  collection  of  facts  about  her  neighbors.  It  had 
put  the  man  in  an  ill  humor,  and  he  turned  into 
the  lane,  contrasting  with  these  petty  natures  the 
graciousness  of  his  mistress,  her  multiple  interests 
in  life,  and  even  her  sympathy  with  those  who  fol- 
lowed pursuits  that  were  incomprehensible  to  her. 
He  had  the  happy  poetical  quality  of  dreaming 
himself  out  of  situations,  of  ceasing  to  be  himself 
\J  for  a  time;  and  he  walked  along  feeling  as  if  now 
he  were  true  and  were  moving  in  the  sunshine  of 
her  truth,  and  as  if  her  kiss  had  had  the  force  of  a 
benediction  and  had  laid  the  demons  of  sin  which 
once  possessed  him. 

Then  he  was  sent  away  from  her  door.  That 
might  have  been  an  accident,  but  at  present  it  was 
a  new  wretchedness.  To  see  her  banished  all  other 
thoughts,  and  to-day  he  had  great  need  of  her.  He 
turned  back,  on  a  fresh  impulse,  and  again  rang. 

"  I  must  see  Mrs.  Westerley,  if  she  is  in  the 
house,"  he  declared. 

"  She  is  not  at  home,  sir,"  repeated  the  servant, 
who  knew  his  business. 

"  Give  her  my  card,"  said  Wendell,  perempto- 
rily. He  had  written  on  it  "Please  to  see  me." 


IN  WAR  TIME.  407 

John  turned,  rather  dubious,  and  found  his  way 
through  back  premises  into  the  drawing-room. 

Alice  shuddered.  Fate  had  been  too  much  for 
her.  Should  she  put  him  off,  and  then  write  to 
him  ?  But  she  hardly  felt  up  to  so  stern  a  r61e  of 
endurance.  "  Show  Dr.  Wendell  in,"  she  said.  The 
servant  closed  the  door  behind  him,  and  Wendell 
advanced  with  outstretched  hand. 

"At  last,  Alice!"  he  cried.  "How  I  have 
longed  for  you !  I  have  been  so  wretched." 

There  was  something  strange  in  her  face,  but  he 
did  not  see  it  for  a  moment.  She  gave  him  her 
hand  mechanically,  and  he  drew  her  towards  him. 
She  had  not  yet  spoken.  Then  he  saw  how  grave 
and  cold  her  face  was,  and  that  her  eyes  were  red 
and  the  lids  swollen. 

"  You  cannot  kiss  me,"  she  said.     "  Sit  down." 

"  I  cannot  kiss  you !  "  he  repeated,  slowly,  and 
sat  down  with  automatic  obedience.  "  What  have 
I  done  ?  "  he  faltered. 

"  Ask  yourself,"  she  rejoined,  proudly.  "  I  am 
not  your  conscience." 

"  I !  "  he  said.  "  What  is  it  ?  What  does  this 
mean  ?  You  know  that  what  I  did,  I  did  for  Ar- 
thur's sake!  Did  you  disapprove  of  that?  Oh, 
you  could  not !  You  did  not !  You  must  have  un- 
derstood what  it  cost  me !  " 

"  It  was  not  that,"  she  said.  "  You  know  me  too 
well  to  suppose  that  I  meant  that.  I  have  thought 
it  over  since,  and  I  feel  that  what  we  did  was 
wrong.  Mrs.  Morton  had  no  right  to  ask  or  accept 


408  IN  WAR  TIME. 

it,  and  I  was  weak  to  yield  to  her.  But  I  cannot 
talk  of  it  any  more.  The  thing  is  done,  and  there 
is  now  no  help  for  it.  But  why,  why,"  she  said, 
looking  down  as  she  spoke,  —  "  why  did  you  accept 
a  bribe  from  Mrs.  Morton  ?  You  had  done  a  thing 
I  might  call  falsely  noble,  and  you  took  money  she 
gave  you  to  make  her  feel  surer  of  your  silence ! 
The  two  acts  were  so  unlike.  The  one  was  heroic ; 
the  other  —  I  —  I  can't  understand  it !  " 

She  had  meant  to  ask  no  explanation.  Now  in 
her  pity  she  had  done  so ;  but  it  was  love,  not 
hope,  that  prompted  her. 

He  sat  looking  at  her  downward  face,  while  she 
questioned  him  with  slow,  distinct  utterance,  seem- 
ing at  times  to  search  for  the  right  word. 

"  If  you  think  it  was  wrong,"  he  said,  "  it  must 
have  been  wrong,  but  Edward  had  promised  it,  and 
I  am  perplexed  with  debts,  and  I  had  to  have  help. 
You  cannot  conceive  what  misery  it  is  to  owe 
money.  I  shall  repay  it." 

"Repay!"  she  cried.  "What  you  lost  to  get 
this  help  you  can  never  get  back!  Can  she  give 
you  again  your  honor  ?  Can  you  cease  to  be  an  ac- 
complice, —  a  paid  accomplice  ?  You  have  made  it 
look  like  a  crime.  It  does  seem  to  me  strange  that 
you  did  not  see  this.  I  cannot  dare  to  face  the 
thought  that,  seeing  it,  you  did  as  you  have  done." 

He  was  silent.  The  darker  guilt  she  did  not 
guess  was  scourging  him  with  intolerable  anguish, 
as  he  saw  himself  in  the  clear  light  of  her  judg- 
ment. He  dreaded  to  hear  his  sentence. 


IN  WAR  TIME.  409 

"  What  can  I  do,"  he  asked,  "  to  justify  myself  ? 
I  see  that  I  was  wrong.  Help  me  to  do  what 
seems  right  to  you." 

His  humility  appeared  to  her  disgusting.  "  And 
this,"  she  said  to  herself,  "this  was  the  man  I 
loved!" 

"  I  will  send  it  back,"  he  added. 

"  That  is  for  you  to  decide,"  she  returned,  look- 
ing at  him. 

"  And  you  won't  desert  me,  Alice  ?  " 

"  If  you  mean  by  this  that  you  can  ever  again 
be  to  me  what  you  have  been,  you  strangely  misun- 
derstand me.  I  could  not  marry  a  man  I  do  not 
respect." 

"Then  it  is  all  over." 

"  Yes,  it  is  all  over,  —  all  but  the  shame  and  the 
bitterness  of  it.  And  I  loved  you  !  —  oh,  I  loved 
you  dearly;  more  than  life,  more  than  my  soul! 
God  help  me,  I  would  give  it  now,  this  instant,  to 
be  able  to  think  of  you  as  I  once  thought !  " 

She  was  scared  when  she  looked  at  him.  Down 
his  face,  ghastly  and  white,  great  drops  of  sweat 
rolled,  and  his  mouth  twitched  convulsively.  He 
was  crushed  by  an  agony  of  despair  that  seemed  to 
him  to  make  life  unendurable.  It  was  not  alone 
the  lost  love  that  hurt  him,  but  the  fact  that  this 
woman  regarded  him  with  contempt,  —  she,  so 
gentle  and  so  full  of  sweet  pity  for  all  the  forms  of 
human  trouble. 

"  And  there  is  no  hope  for  me  ? "  he  moaned, 
hoarsely. 


410  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"  If  I  said  there  was,  I  should  be  false,"  she  re- 
turned. "  I  meant  to  write  to  you,  but  you  would 
insist  on  seeing  me,  and  I  have  said  more  than  I 
wanted  to  say.  No  doubt  I  have  hurt  you  sorely, 
but  you  are  not  the  only  one  hurt." 

"  And  I  must  be  to  you  of  all  men  the  lowest." 

She  made  no  answer,  feeling  that  she  was  at  the 
end  of  her  powers  of  endurance.  He  stood  up. 
"  I  cannot  bear  your  scorn.  I  can  bear  the  rest ; 
that  I  cannot  bear  !  " 

Her  silence  tortured  him  beyond  endurance.  All 
else  in  life  became  little  to  him,  —  his  name,  his 
safety,  his  very  existence. 

He  spoke,  and  with  a  singular  calmness :  "  You 
are  right ;  but  I  am  now  as  one  facing  death.  I 
had  to  do  as  I  did,  or  resign  all  hopes  of  you. 
That  I  could  not  do." 

"  What  ?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"I  —  made  the  mistake  that  cost  Edward  his 
life.  I  did  it.  I  was  in  a  hurry,  as  you  know,  to 
reach  Ann  in  time,  and  in  my  haste  I  gave  Arthur 
the  wrong  vial.  It  was  I  who  killed  him.  It  was 
to  be  either  Arthur  or  I ;  and  if  I  had  said  it  was 
I,  then  I  knew  life  was  over  for  me.  It  was  be- 
cause I  loved  you,  Alice." 

"  And  is  this  really  true  ?  "  she  cried.     "  Oh,  it 

^    cannot  possibly  be  true !     You  could  not  have  lied 

thus,  and  looked  me  in  the  face.     Take  it  back. 

Please  to  say  it  is  not  so.    And  the  money,  —  after 

that,  to  take  her  money  !  " 

"  Wrong  or  right,"  he  said,  "  I  did  it  for  you." 


IN  WAR  TIME.  411 

"  For  me !  For  me  !  He  says  he  did  it  for  me ! 
How  little  you  knew  me,  —  how  less  than  little ! 
If  you  had  spoken  the  truth  I  should  have  clung  to 
you  for  life.  You  cannot  know  how  I  should  have 
loved  you.  Ah,  I  should  have  loved  you  as  man 
was  never  loved." 

"And  now  is  it  over,  Alice  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  over." 

"  Oh,  my  God !  "  he  cried,  "  what  have  I  done? 
But  at  least  you  cannot  scorn  me  now.  When  you 
think  of  me  you  will  say,  '  He  had  the  courage  to 
do  one  right  thing.  He  was  not  utterly  base. '  " 

"  I  shall  pray  for  you,"  she  said,  softly.  "  I 
shall  try  never  to  think  of  you  except  in  my 
prayers  ;  "  and  the  tears  rained  through  the  hands 
with  which  she  hid  her  face.  "  Go,"  she  urged ; 
"  please  to  go.  I  can  bear  no  more.  Oh,  my  God 
/-  the  shame  of  it !  The  shame  of  it !  " 

"I  will  go,"  he  returned;  but  he  fell  on  his 
knees  beside  her,  and  seizing  her  hand  kissed  it, 
one  long,  lingering  kiss.  Then  he  rose  and  slowly 
left  the  house. 

Several  days  had  gone  by  since  the  burial  of 
Edward,  when  Captain  Arthur  Morton  took  his 
way,  one  afternoon,  across  the  fields  from  his  home 
towards  the  long  highway  of  Germantown.  He 
was  on  his  usual  visit  to  Hester,  but  was  more  sad 
than  common,  his  morning  having  been  spent  in 
the  legal  business  which  necessarily  followed  his 
brother's  death.  Nothing  in  life  had  so  sobered 


412  IN  WAR  TIME. 

him  as  this  loss.  He  went  along  through  the  woods 
of  June,  thinking  how  remorselessly  the  busy  wa- 
ters of  life  had  closed  over  this  dear  one,  as  the  sea 
above  its  dead.  It  was  in  truth  no  common  calam- 
ity. Edward's  strong  individuality  intensified  the 
sense  of  his  loss  to  those  he  left;  for  although 
there  are  many  people  in  the  world,  there  are  but 
few  persons,  and  Edward's  was  a  distinctive  per- 
sonality. 

As  the  young  soldier  approached  the  house,  he 
saw  Hester  in  the  garden  beside  it  tying  up  the 
roses,  which  were  now  putting  out  anew  their  sum- 
mer buds.  She  had  dressed  herself  in  black,  and 
the  vase-like  curves  of  her  young  form  came  out 
sharply  in  the  dark  dress  against  the  gray  stone 
wall. 

Arthur  leapt  lightly  over  the  pale  fence,  and  if 
the  roses  were  of  a  sudden  jealous  they  had  reason 
therefor. 

The  two  young  folks  strolled  down  the  little  gar- 
den, chatting  as  they  went  of  many  things  :  of  the 
great  war,  out  of  which  he  had  come  with  little 
scath ;  of  the  happy  future  they  promised  them- 
selves, —  and  over  and  over  returned  to  speak  of 
the  power  to  love  which  their  brother  and  friend 
had  possessed,  of  the  sweetness  that  came  out  of  his 
strength,  until,  looking  up,  each  saw  tears  in  the 
other's  eyes,  and  owned  their  mysterious  relief. 

"  And,  Arty,  no  one  loved  him  better  than  Dr. 
Wendell." 

"  I  am  sure  of  that.    But  was  it  not  very  strange 


IN   WAR  TIME.  413 

that  he  did  not  come  to  the  funeral  ?  I  could  not 
understand  it." 

"  He  was  in  bed  all  that  day,"  returned  Hester. 
"  I  never  saw  a  person  so  altered.  I  think  he  must 
have  been  dreadfully  shocked  by  Edward's  death. 
I  heard  him  tell  Miss  Ann  once  that  he  ought  not 
to  have  been  a  doctor ;  and  I  think  may  be  he  is 
right,  for  Miss  Ann  says  he  broods  for  days  when 
any  of  his  patients  die." 

"  And  Ned  did  love  him  well,"  said  Arthur.  "  I 
have  a  pleasant  surprise  for  him,  and  I  want  you  to 
come  into  the  house  with  me  and  find  him.  It  may 
do  him  good,  poor  fellow." 

"  And  what  is  it,  Arty?  " 

"  That  you  cannot  know  until  I  tell  Miss  Ann. 
Come." 

"  I  think  he  needs  some  help.     He  really  must 

be  ill.     He  scarcely  speaks  to  any  one.     Miss  Ann 

went  out  early  to-day,  and  came  back  to  tell  me 

~y  that  she  has  arranged  with  Mrs.  Westerley  that  I 

am  to  go  to  her,  while  Miss  Ann  takes  the  doctor 

;  to  the  seashore  a  while." 

"  Mother  has  a  still  better  plan.  She  has  writ- 
ten to  ask  Mr.  Gray  to  let  you  go  with  her  to 
Europe  in  August ;  and  then  next  spring,  if  you  are 
a  good  girl,  I  may  follow  you ;  and  afterwards,  in 
a  year,  Hester,  —  mother  says  in  two,  —  you  will 
consider  the  propriety  and  advantages  of  a  resi- 
dence in  a  mountain  district ;  Alleghanies,  we  may 
say." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Hester,  smiling.  "How  kind 
your  mother  is  !  " 


414  IN  WAR  TIME. 

"Mother  is  never  half  anything,"  he  returned. 
"  She  fought  us  a  good  while,  and  now  she  is  mak- 
ing believe  that  she  has  won  a  victory.  We 
need  n't  contradict  her.  I  never  contradict  people 
who  agree  with  me." 

"I  shall  know  how  to  escape  contradiction," 
cried  Hester,  laughing.  "  But  there  is  Miss  Ann 
at  the  window ; "  and  as  she  spoke  they  passed 
through  the  hall  into  the  sitting-room. 

"  Good  news,  Miss  Ann,"  cried  Arthur.  "  I 
wanted  to  be  first  to  tell  you  that  my  dear  Ned  has 
left  your  brother  ten  thousand  dollars."  He  had 
in  reality  left  a  letter  asking  Arthur  to  give  it, 
as  he  had  only  a  life  estate  in  his  property,  which 
passed  to  Arthur. 

"  It  was  like  him,"  she  returned ;  "  and  I  may 
say  to  you  that  it  will  be  a  great  relief.  God  has 
been  good  to  us,  and  there  is  no  one  I  would  like 
better  to  think  of  as  helping  us  than  your  brother. 
But  here  is  Ezra.  Please  don't  remark  his  appear- 
ance. He  has  been  very  wretched,  and  he  does  not 
like  to  have  it  mentioned." 

Arthur  was  struck  with  the  man's  face.  It  was 
haggard  and  flushed. 

"  Tell  him  about  it,"  continued  Ann ;  "  you  will 
like  to,  I  am  sure." 

"What  is  it?  Tell  me  what?"  returned  Wen- 
dell, in  an  uninterested  voice. 

"  Only  some  pleasant  news,"  Arthur  responded. 
"I  came  over  to  say  that  by  a  provision  of  Ed- 
ward's will  you  are  to  have  ten  thousand  dollars. 


IN  WAR  TIME.  415 

And  we  are  all  so  glad,  —  Hester,  and  I,  and  all 
of  us." 

"  He  has  left  me  ten  thousand  dollars !  " 

Arthur  was  troubled.  "  Yes  ;  is  n't  it  nice  ?  We 
all  owe  you  so  much  that  I  should  like  to  have 
given  it  myself ;  only  you  might  not  like  to  take 
from  the  living  what  you  can  take  from  the  dead. 
But  it  is  as  if  dear  Ned  were  thanking  you  for  us 
all.  That  is  why  we  like  it." 

Wendell  looked  up  at  the  speaker  with  a  face 
written  all  over  with  the  toneless,  infirm  lines  of 
weariness.  Then  he  said,  in  a  monotonous  voice,  as 
if  he  did  not  feel  the  meaning  of  his  own  words,  — 

"  The  dead  thankful !  the  dead  thankful !  I  can't 
take  it,  —  that 's  all.  I  can't  take  it.  Let  me  lie 
down." 

Arthur  looked  his  amazement.  "Doctor,  doc- 
tor," he  said,  "  you  are  ill.  It  has  been  too  much 
for  you.  Why  do  you  talk  so  ?  " 

"  No,  I  am  not  sick ;  I  am  dead.  But  hell  is 
alive.  Go  away,  all  of  you.  I  want  to  be  alone." 

"  Yes,"  said  Ann,  "  go  away.  Leave  him  to  me. 
He  will  be  all  right  in  a  few  days.  This  last  week 
has  been  too  much  for  him."  She  knew  that  he 
had  taken  a  good  deal  of  opium,  and,  thinking  his 
strangeness  of  conduct  due  to  this,  dreaded  lest  he 
should  further  betray  himself. 

Somewhat  reluctantly  they  left  her.  Then  Wen- 
dell spoke :  "  We  must  get  away,  Ann.  We  must 
go  somewhere.  And  don't  mind  what  I  say.  Tell 
Arthur  I  don't  mean  anything.  Tell  him  I  took 


416  IN   WAR   TIME. 

some  morphia  this  morning ;  and  don't  look  at  me 
that  way,  Ann." 

"  Yes,  brother,"  she  replied  uneasily ;  "  yes,  you 
want  a  change.  Don't  worry,  dear.  I  will  ar- 
range it." 

It  was  all  one  horrible  mystery  to  her,  —  this 
last  week ;  but  she  got  her  brother  to  bed,  and 
went  on  at  once  completing  her  arrangements  for 
leaving  town  for  a  week  or  two,  hoping  that  with 
change  of  air  he  would  become  as  he  had  been. 

Within  a  day  or  two  they  left  abruptly,  without 
leave-taking ;  and  the  house  was  closed,  and  Hester 
went  to  Alice  Westerley's. 

Alice  found  it  impossible  to  talk  of  what  Wen- 
dell had  told  her.  Some  day  she  must  do  it.  Just 
now  she  could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  blacken 
further  the  character  of  the  man  she  had  loved ;  but 
being  a  just  woman,  she  wrote  to  Helen  Morton :  — 

"  I  have  done  you  a  wrong,  and  while  I  have  in 
no  respect  changed  my  views  as  to  what  should 
have  been  our  course,  I  want  to  ask  your  pardon. 
I  have  kept  away  on  the  plea  of  ill  health.  If  you 
can  forget  what  I  said  in  haste,  I  will  come  over 
to-morrow  and  see  you,  but  let  us  say  nothing  of 
the  past." 

Helen  Morton  was  too  much  softened  by  the  sor- 
row of  the  week  to  give  any  but  a  kindly  answer, 
and  they  were  friends  again,  but  always  with  a 
sense  of  some  vague  barrier  between  them.  We 
may  be  eager  enough  to  let  the  dead  past  bury  its 
dead  passions,  but  at  times  their  ghosts  move  sadly 


IN  WAR  TIME.  417 

in  the  dreary  graveyard  of  memory.    Some  day  the 
good  priest  Time  shall  lay  them. 

Late  in  August  Mrs.  Morton,  Hester,  and  Alice 
went  abroad ;  and  meanwhile  there  came  no  news 
of  Wendell.  In  September,  Ann  returned.  There 
was  a  sudden  sale  of  their  furniture,  and  she  went 
as  she  had  come,  still  ruddy-cheeked  and  quiet,  and 
betraying  no  sign  of  any  suffering  these  months 
may  have  laid  upon  her. 


XXIV. 

A  TEAR  and  more  had  gone  by  since  the  actors 
in  this  story  passed,  one  by  one,  from  the  quiet 
village,  which  now  makes  a  part  of  the  great  city. 
There  was  a  dinner,  one  of  those  debtor-and-cred- 
itor  feasts  which  wise  men  dread,  at  which  was 
assembled  a  somewhat  incongruous  collection  of 


Mr.  Wilmington  found,  to  his  horror,  that  he 
was  assigned  to  Mrs.  Grace,  and  was  not  sorry  to 
see,  as  he  sat  down,  that  the  seat  on  his  left  was 
occupied  by  Miss  Clemson,  who  came  in  to  dinner 
on  the  arm  of  Dr.  Jones,  a  more  than  middle-aged 
man,  much  known  as  reliable ;  a  comfortable  phy- 
sician, too  well  satisfied  with  his  art,  "and  so  sym- 
pathetic, my  dear." 

Mrs.  Grace  spoke  to  him  across  her  neighbors  as 
soon  as  the  soup  was  removed.  "Whatever  has 
become  of  Dr.  Wendell  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  returned.  "  He  was  always 
a  rolling  stone,  I  am  told.  And  he  was  a  rolling 
stone  in  his  opinions,  too.  Never  could  hold  fast 
to  anything." 

"  He  was  very  strong  on  gout,"  said  Wilming- 
ton; "had  some  ideas  about  it  I  never  heard  be- 
fore." 


IN  WAR  TIME.  419 

"  I  dare  say,"  rejoined  Dr.  Jones. 

"  The  doctors  are  like  dentists,"  murmured  Miss 
Clemson  to  Wilmington.  "  How  they  hate  one  an- 
other; and  after  all  people  get  well.  It  is  merely 
a  question  of  statistics." 

"  May  be  Dr.  Lagrange  knows,"  said  Mrs.  Grace, 
who  pursued  a  personal  fact  as  a  naturalist  does 
a  butterfly.  Lagrange  was  within  ear-shot  across 
the  table.  "We  were  talking  of  Dr.  Wendell," 
she  added.  "  Do  you  know  where  he  has  gone  ?  I 
always  did  think  he  went  away  quite  mysteri- 
ously." 

"He  is  in  the  West,  I  believe,"  replied  La- 
grange  ;  "  but  why  he  left  I  do  not  know." 

"  There  was  always  something  queer  about  him," 
affirmed  Mrs.  Grace.  "I  should  think  a  doctor 
that  did  n't  believe  in  liver,  or  malaria,  or  even  in 
\y  neuralgia,  would  n't  come  to  much  good." 

"That  is  conclusive,"  said  Miss  Clemson.  "I 
always  liked  him." 

"  And  did  n't  you  think  he  would  marry  Alice 
Westerley  ?  "  returned  Mrs.  Grace.  "  I  think  he 
will  yet." 

"  It  is  hardly  a  subject  for  thought,"  said  Miss 
Clemson,  severely;  "but  it  may  interest  you  to 
know  that  Mrs.  Westerley  is  still  abroad,  and  has 
so  far  married  no  one." 

"I  did  think  there  was  a  chance  for  Colonel 
Fox." 

"  Might  do  worse,"  growled  Wilmington. 

"  A  year  is  surely  long  enough  to  mourn  a  lost 


420  IN  WAR  TIME. 

lover,"  returned  Miss  Clemson ;  and  then  she  whis- 
pered an  aside  to  Wilmington :  "  Alas,  poor  Sarah ! 
You  should  avail  yourself  of  the  opportunity." 

"  I  am  not  old  enough  to  manage  so  much  real 
estate,"  said  Wilmington,  ferociously.  "But  do 
you  know,"  he  added,  aloud,  "  that  we  expect  Arty 
and  his  wife  next  week  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that  is  too  bad  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Grace. 
"  I  never  heard  it." 

She  began  to  feel  that  the  world  of  fact  was 
evading  her  pursuit  in  some  maliciously  mysterious 
way. 

"  You  seem  skeptical,"  said  Miss  Clemson  ;  "  we 
shall  have  you  dubious  as  to  the  census  next,  Mrs. 
Grace." 

"  Well,  I  have  my  opinions,"  returned  that  lady. 
"  And  as  to  Dr.  Wendell,  you  can  say  what  you 
like  ;  I  never  approved  of  him,  and  I  am  not  sur- 
prised at  the  result." 

"  You  should  have  been  a  doctor  yourself,"  re- 
marked Lagrange,  who  said  vicious  things  with  a 
bewildering  tranquillity  of  manner ;  "  you  are  such 
a  good  observer  thrown  away." 

Mrs.  Grace  had  her  doubts  as  to  this  compli- 
ment. 

"  And,"  added  Miss  Clemson,  "  it  would  be  so 
nice  to  be  able  to  ask  people  their  ages." 

"  But  they  would  n't  ever  tell  you  the  truth," 
rejoined  Mrs.  Grace,  thoughtfully. 

"  It  is  the  absence  of  truth  that  makes  social  life 
possible,"  said  Miss  Clemson. 


IN   WAR   TIME.  421 

"  And  women  agreeable !  "  cried  Wilmington. 
"  What  a  horrible  sherry !  " 

"  Poor  thing !  "  cried  Miss  Clemson.  "  Let  us 
talk  wine  a  little." 

"  It  is  better  than  gossip,"  said  Wilmington, 
sharply. 

"  I  agree  with  you  ;  but  gossip  is  socially  valua- 
ble, because  it  requires  no  intelligence.  Even  the 
weather  is  lost  to  us  now,  since  we  have  the  signal 
service.  All  the  pleasures  of  doubt  are  being  taken 
away  from  us.  I  like  it  myself,  and  if  I  live  long 
enough  life  will  become  sufficiently  definite  to  be 
agreeable." 

"  Goodness  !  "  exclaimed  Wilmington,  "  I  wish 
you  would  say  all  that  over  again  to  Mrs.  Grace." 

"  Thank  you,  I  never  talk  to  her  if  I  can  help  it. 
It  makes  me  feel  as  if  I  were  looking  at  life  through 
a  bad  window  glass.  Alice  Westerley  was  right 
about  her  when  she  said  the  real  chiffonniere  would 
be  nicer  society.  Mrs.  Grace  does  like  the  pursuit 
of  ragged  facts." 

"Oh,  our  dear  Mrs.  Westerley!  I  wish  she 
would  come  home  and  abuse  me  a  little.  Seriously 
speaking,  I  had  myself  some  idea  that  she  might 
marry  Dr.  Wendell.  I  liked  the  man,  on  the 
whole,  a  good  deal  better  than  I  like  most  Yan- 
kees." 

"  I  do  not  share  your  prejudices,"  returned  Miss 
Clemson.  "  He  was  charmingly  intelligent.  What 
has  become  of  him  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  know  his  health  broke  down,  and  I 


422  IN  WAR  TIME. 

believe  Fox  found  him  quite  ill  and  penniless  at 
Long  Branch,  where  his  sister  had  taken  him.  I 
understand  that  Fox  carried  them  off  to  the  West, 
and  has  given  him  a  fresh  start." 

"  It  was  like  Mr.  Fox,"  said  Miss  Clemson.  "  I 
shall  write  Alice  Westerley  all  about  it  this  very 
evening.  She  will  be  so  interested." 

Wilmington  smiled. 

"  What  is  amusing  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

11  Oh,  I  was  thinking,"  he  replied. 

Some  two  months  after  this  dinner,  which  has 
let  us  into  a  knowledge  of  the  fates  of  some  of  our 
friends,  Mrs.  Morton  received  from  Ann  Wendell 
this  letter :  — 

DEAR  MRS.  MORTON, —  I  have  been  able  to 
persuade  my  brother  that  it  were  well  in  the  eyes 
of  God  that  he  permit  me  to  write  to  you,  and  say 
that  the  death  of  your  son  Edward  was  owing  to 
negligence  on  the  part  of  my  brother,  who  was  in 
haste,  for  some  cause  unknown  to  me,  and  so  gave 
the  wrong  vial  to  Arthur,  and  did  not  sufficiently 
examine  as  he  should  have  done.  For  reasons 
which  I  do  not  understand,  my  brother  allowed  the 
blame  to  rest  on  Arthur,  and  seemed  to  be  willing 
to  assist  in  concealing  the  truth.  Now,  at  last, 
having  come  to  look  at  it  more  wisely,  he  is  desir- 
ous that  I  should  tell  you  the  truth ;  and  hence 
you  will  see  why  he  could  not  take  the  money  which 
would  not  have  come  to  him  except  for  the  death 
he  caused. 


/AT   WAR   TIME.  423 

Perhaps,  now  that  some  time  has  gone  by,  you 
will  try  to  forgive  this  great  wickedness,  knowing 
that  my  brother  is  much  broken  in  health  and 
spirit. 

When  Alice  saw  this  note,  a  good  while  after  it 
was  written,  she  had  a  great  longing  to  be  able  to 
say  some  tender  words  to  the  true,  simple,  honest 
woman,  who  had  poured  out  the  waters  of  her  lov- 
ing life  where  the  barren  soil  seemed  to  give  back 
no  least  return. 


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